


Hold on Loosely

by Nightfox



Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Jealous!Arthur, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-08-03
Updated: 2011-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-22 12:04:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightfox/pseuds/Nightfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur's possessiveness towards Merlin goes a little too far one night...</p><p>(A/N: This fic is on temporary hiatus, it has <i>not</i> been abadoned! Look for updates this coming Autumn.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Feast

**Author's Note:**

> Minor spoilers for the end of the Series 1, Ep 9 "Excalibur".

Merlin was mildly tipsy as the feast drew to a close. He'd known better to do anything other than sip at the mildest mead on offer to the servants. With a notoriously weak resistance to spirits, he was very careful to never allow himself to become drunk. Not after that incident in old man Weaver's shearing shed with Will back in Ealdor. Shaking his head ruefully over the incident he made his way away from Prince Arthur's side. As usual, his "master" was behaving like a royal prat and was now pouting over God-knows what and glaring at Merlin just as if he hadn't told his servant to "Quit hovering, you idiot so I can enjoy myself for once without you spilling wine or hot gravy in my lap."

Having been thus dismissed, Merlin joined the other servants at the far end of the Great Hall and availed himself of the food, drink and company provided for the lower class attendants of the Feast. Uther had many faults as a King but ill treating his servants on a regular basis wasn't one of them. Briefly Merlin wondered from whom Arthur had picked up that particular trait or perhaps, it was just an in-born personality flaw? The food wasn't as grand, nor the drink of the same quality as that being served to the high-born guests but it was certainly finer fare than the young sorcerer had ever enjoyed prior to his employment in the Royal Household. Honestly, it even exceeded what was on offer for the King himself on a daily basis. The evening's festivities were indeed a treat meant for all, not just the privileged nobility of Camelot.

Everyone was celebrating Prince Arthur's Coming of Age as well as Uther's defeat of the mysterious Black Knight. After coming so close to losing their Royal Family, everyone in the land was holding some sort of celebration that night. Arthur half-expected the Kingdom to come to a grinding halt the next morning due to an almost universal hangover. He wasn't drunk himself, at least not on wine or ale. He was feeling more than a little dazed as he watched Merlin that night though. Somehow tonight, his manservant wasn't clumsy, or bumbling, neither dropping things nor bumping into everyone and everything in sight. He was downright graceful to be honest. He moved amongst the other servants deftly on light feet as he ate, laughed, danced and...My God! Was that Merlin _flirting_ with pretty serving maids and lovely servant boys alike? Merlin? Flirting? He'd never believed it of anyone if he hadn't witnessed himself. His manservant was definitely flirting with anyone who sent a smile his way.

It wasn't as if Arthur hadn't noticed how good Merlin was looking that night. He was wearing the Pendragon Royal surcoat over some deep blue shirt which served to both highlight the young man's alabaster skin as well as his ocean blue eyes. The Prince squirmed uncomfortably in his chair as he felt his breeches begin to get tight. It was in fact the reason he'd sent the boy away in the first place. For once Merlin wasn't wearing one of those damned neckerchiefs. Fine collarbones curled delicately away from the hollow now visible at the base of his long white throat and each time Merlin had leaned over Arthur's shoulder to refill his goblet , the Prince had had to fight the urge to lean over and fill that rarely seen concavity with his own swirling tongue.

Now as he watched Merlin amongst the servants and lesser gentry he found himself grinding his teeth in aggravation. Far too many people seemed to think they had a right to put their hands on _his_ manservant. Alien fingers twirled in the boys ebony locks while others smoothed that soft raven hair back into place. Arthur noticed that Morgana's maid Gwen was easily the worst offender. Her hands rested on Merlin's waist as they danced together. She allowed her slender dark fingers to smooth down shirt sleeves, tunic edges and collars that didn't really need smoothing. Her delicate hands were most often fiddling with his soft dark hair and Arthur noticed she even lightly traced prominent cheek bones and the shells of his ears with far too fond a twinkle in her dark liquid eyes.

And Merlin smiled at every damn touch the girl bestowed on him. He practically expected the boy to start purring and twining around her ankles any minute now. There was a softness to that deep blue gaze that Arthur hadn't ever seen directed at himself. Something clenched in his gut when he realized this. Another part of his brain questioned why he cared if Merlin smiled softly at some servant girl.

He quashed those thoughts and attempted to direct his attention back to his father and the most prominent of his knights as they listened again to Uther bragging of his defeat of the Black Knight. Arthur tried not to, but he begrudged his father this victory. It should have been his. Instead of fighting, he'd been lying in an unconscious heap in his bedchamber drugged by the Court Physician on his father's orders. Even his father's impassioned declaration that he'd rather die than watch his only son slain before his eyes hadn't truly softened the blow to Arthur's pride. It certainly hadn't raised his esteem in the eyes of the Knights of Camelot either. They seemed unsure whether or not to accept the story as true.

Arthur found his eyes straying to the Lower Hall once again only to see some strange young man staring at Merlin as he spoke with great animation, his endearingly impish grin in place. The Prince summed the stranger up and determined he was probably the son of a Guild Master or wealthy trader. Well off enough to be invited to the feast but not as a guest of the Upper Hall and therefore not of noble blood. He knew Merlin wasn't impressed with titles nor was he concerned with the social stations of others but he didn't seem to realize that as the personal servant to the Crown Prince of the realm, his own social standing among those not _born_ to nobility was quite high. It ranked with the highest of the minor gentry. Merlin might be uncaring of his social status but others would not be.

However, anyone with the slightest bit of discernment would realize within five minutes of meeting Merlin that he could not be used to get at the Prince. He didn't see himself in that light and therefore could not be manipulated by those seeking to find favor with the Prince through him. Few outside the Palace had any clue how close Arthur and Merlin were. Even fewer would have suspected that the Prince held his servant in anything other than laughing contempt. Merlin himself would have probably been amongst that latter group.

The strange young man had been steadily inching closer and closer to Merlin as Arthur watched. Soon he was right beside the tall slender youth. The Prince no longer attempted to keep his observation of the Lower Hall discreet. The man was close to Merlin's age, which made him a few years younger than Arthur. He was well dressed and passing handsome if you liked that type. Unconsciously Arthur sniffed. The man had a head full of chestnut curls and large dark eyes that slid all over Merlin in an overly familiar manner that set Arthur's teeth on edge. High cheekbones, chiseled features, a square jaw and a sharpish nose gave way to incongruently sensual lips. Lips the man kept licking as he devoured Merlin with his dark eyes.

Arthur was too far away to hear what the conversation consisted of but as soon as he could, the young man began to find excuses or openings to touch Merlin. A clap on the shoulder, a seemingly accidental brush of the hands, a touch of his sleeve as he directed the young servant's attention to something, lips that lingered too close to Merlin's ear as he whispered something that made the youth laugh. Perfectly innocent on the surface but the Prince had been watching this man stalk Merlin for quite some time now. He looked away again as his name was called and he reluctantly joined his Knights in the retelling of some recent exploits for those nobles who hadn't already heard the same tale a dozen times over.

Meanwhile Merlin was enjoying himself immensely. He'd spent the majority of the evening with Gwen, his best friend among the Palace staff. She always managed to bring him out of his shell and this evening had been a spectacular example of that ability. He was properly socializing for the first time since he'd left his home in Ealdor. He'd found that in addition to the senior serving staff, the other guests of the Lower Hall tended to include the city's most prominent merchants, master craftsmen and the lower gentry. Basically those with money but without noble blood. He found that he fit in with these people so much better than any group he'd encountered before. Back in Ealdor he'd been considered a bit of a freak, not just because of his "strange gift" but because his mother, having come from Camelot herself, had educated her son well beyond the level of the average border villager. Well enough that he easily held his own amongst these moneyed people.

He'd found much to his surprise that as the Crown Prince's personal body-servant he was the recipient of a heady amount of respect. That he also was apprenticed to the Royal Court Physician at the same time seemed to raise his status just a bit more. Merlin being Merlin didn't let it go to his head. He doubted these people would even recognize him the next time Arthur ordered him to muck out his stables or Gaius had him scrubbing out his leech tank. However, he relaxed for once and allowed himself to be free from his usual load of worries and burdens. He made sure he barely sipped the mead and instead stuck to the unusual fruit juices on offer instead.

Merlin suspected he had danced more that one evening than he had before in his entire life. The ladies were certainly not backward about being forward and relaxed as he was, for the first time in since coming to court, his "natural" clumsiness was revealed as no such thing. It had always been nerves and stress that caused him to stumble and fumble and there was no one in the world like Arthur for making Merlin nervous and stressed unless it was his father, Uther. The King so terrified Merlin that he was barely able to walk a straight line in his presence.

In between dances, he stood with Gwen and an ever growing circle of new acquaintances. He'd had just enough mead to wear off some of his shyness and as his confidence grew, so did his smile. However, he was still Merlin and as such, oblivious to his own attractions. He happily traded clever remarks with several guests, men and women, truly never realizing that he was engaging in the art of flirting. As he was unaware of the significance of the double entendres being traded, he also didn't realize that he was _good_ at it. Sadly, Gwen certainly noticed, though knowing Merlin as well as she did now, she knew he meant nothing by it. He was her friend and as much as she might wish it otherwise, she'd probably never be more to him than that.

From his place at the High table Arthur also noticed his "idiot" manservant's sudden display of social aptitude. Unlike Merlin, he wasn't being overly careful with his alcohol consumption. As the evening wore on, he became more and more incensed at what he perceived as Merlin's "flaunting" of himself. Gwen now had her arm around his narrow waist and it infuriated Arthur not only how often Merlin flashed the pretty dark skinned girl that beatific smile of his but how good the two of them looked together. Gwen was a lovely girl, dressed in Pendragon red and white and the contrast of her lovely toffee colored skin with Merlin's pale, pearly complexion was quite striking. There was a corner of his mind that was grateful to Morgana's maid though. As long as she held on to Merlin, that curly headed predator could do nothing but prowl around looking for a way to get Merlin away from her.

Arthur wasn't sure if Gwen was doing this on purpose or not, wasn't sure if she was aware of the shark circling the tall beautiful boy she was clinging to. Intentional or not, the sweet natured girl was keeping Merlin safe. However, Merlin lost his soft, feminine shield when Morgana decided she'd had enough of the celebration and desired to retire for the night. Gwen was at her side in moments and Merlin was left alone, a tasty looking lamb surrounded by a ring of hungry wolves.

Almost instantly, the dark eyed man had slid into Gwen's place, whispering something in Merlin's ear that had the boy laughing even while he stepped away from the curly haired boy, evading the arm that attempted to wrap around his waist. When the dark eyed lad followed, stepping up so close he was pressed up against Merlin's side, Arthur had had enough. Even as he rose to his feet he saw the man slip his fingers into the soft ebony hair at the nape of Merlin's neck and as Arthur navigated his way across the full length of the hall, that hand slowly slid down Merlin's spine until it reached the curve of his arse. Arthur had almost reached the pair when he saw Merlin jump as the man ran his fingers down the crease between his manservant's arse cheeks and attempted to press through the fabric there. Arthur was only feet away when Merlin whirled around and gave the curly haired man an angry shove that sent him stumbling straight into Arthur's swiftly approaching figure.

The man looked ready to lunge for Merlin again when he suddenly found he was choking on his own shirt. Arthur had grabbed the back of the man's collar and was swiftly yanking him from the assemblage to a nearby door. Everything happened so quickly, Merlin had barely registered Arthur's presence before he and the dark eyed man disappeared into a closed corridor, the door clicking quietly behind the pair. A few people had noted Merlin shove the man away and his subsequent collision with the Crown Prince. A few more noticed the way the Prince swiftly disappeared with the man, tightly gripping his collar as the face of Merlin's attacker began to turn an alarming shade of purple. There was a general pause in conversation as everyone in the vicinity strained to hear what might be occurring behind that closed door. After several moments of disappointing silence, the company returned to their interrupted conversations as if nothing untoward had happened at all.

Merlin tried to match their insouciance but he'd turned beet red when that man had...had...he blushed scarlet again just thinking what that man had tried to do to him in _full view_ of the entire Great Hall! An older lady with an expensive gown and rough hands took pity on the obviously embarrassed boy and drew him into a perfectly ordinary conversation on the relative merits of lanolin verses saddle oil for keeping leather gloves supple. Grateful to the woman for her kind tact, Merlin joined the debate enthusiastically.

* * *

Arthur dragged the man swiftly down the closed corridor which led directly to the kitchens. He continued to yank the man along by the collar of his tunic uncaring that the man's feet were scrambling to keep him upright and breathing despite the constriction of his throat. He continued straight through the kitchens, surprising more than a few members of the staff who gaped as the Crown Prince dragged a well dressed young man past them, gripping the man's collar as if he were a truculent child or disobedient dog. Arthur didn't stop until he was through the kitchen and into another long passage. They reached another door that led to the tunnels that ran beneath the castle and down to the dungeons. He slammed the man against the door and closed a gloved fist around his throat, lifting him off the floor and pinning him in place by that hand alone.

The man squirmed and struggled, both hands on the Prince's wrist, desperately trying to free his windpipe as he was rapidly running out of air.

"Do you know who you just tried to molest?"

The quiet, silky menace in Arthur's voice frightened the man far more than if the Prince had been shouting at him. He attempted to nod and shake his head at the same time.

"Let me tell you. That was Merlin. Do you know who Merlin is?"

Again, the man attempted to nod around the crushing grip on his throat.

Loosening his grip on the man, he slowly lowered him until his feet were back on the ground though his hand retained it's threatening hold around the young man's neck. With his free hand, Arthur casually unsheathed the dagger he always wore on his right hip. He moved his hand from the dark eyed man's throat to his right shoulder, keeping him pinned tightly to the door. The dagger took up a position just under the corner of the man's jaw.

"Tell me who Merlin is."

Hoarse and gasping for air, the trembling man answered, "He's your personal servant."

"And do you know who I am?"

The man nodded. Arthur pressed the tip of the dagger so it just pierced the man's skin.

"Who am I?"

"Prince Arthur!"

The dagger sunk in a little deeper.

"Who?"

"The Crown Prince of Camelot!"

"Tell me again who Merlin is?"

"Personal servant to the Crown Prince of Camelot!"

Almost half an inch of the dagger was now buried just beneath the corner of the man's jaw. Blood dripped thickly down a throat that was rapidly bruising.

"Do you think you have a right to lay a hand on anything that belongs the Crown Prince of Camelot?" The dagger was withdrawn. "Perhaps my personal seal?" Arthur drew back his fist and punched the young man in the face making certain his signet ring left a perfect imprint.

"Perhaps this dagger? It's a Pendragon heirloom."

Arthur slammed the dagger through the younger man's right shoulder pinning him to the door, seething quietly while the man's screams died down to whimpers. Guards had appeared at the first scream but Arthur sent them away with an impatient wave.

"Or were you after my sword perhaps?" The prince drew the ceremonial sword he wore only for formal occasions, "You certainly seemed interested in one of my sheaths."

The younger man was sobbing with terror and begging for his life as Arthur drew further back. It seemed he was about to run the other man through when instead, he dropped the tip of the sword towards the mans genitals.

"Know this, if you ever touch _anything_ that belongs to me again, first you will lose your manhood, then you will lose your life."

After re-sheathing his sword he reached for his dagger. Holding the man by his uninjured shoulder, he yanked the dagger free from the curly haired boy's flesh and used his enemy's tunic to clean it before returning it to it's sheath as well.

"Now get out of my sight and I'd better never see you anywhere near Merlin again or that day will be your last. Also, if this little story gets out, I'll be paying you a personal visit to discuss the consequences of gossiping about your Prince. Have you got that?"

The boy whimpered while nodding emphatically. 'Yes sire, I understand sire, I'm so sorry!"

"Get out!"

He shoved the boy in the direction of the guards and upon reaching them instructed them to escort the boy discreetly from the castle.

* * *

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	2. That Night

Merlin had been more than a little alarmed when Arthur took so long returning. When he did reappear, he was alone and the young sorcerer was even more puzzled. He was quite happy to avoid another confrontation with that obnoxious idiot Arthur had removed but he was almost frightened by the look in the Prince's eyes when he finally returned by the same door he had exited through earlier. The rest of the golden-haired man's face was smooth and expressionless but those eyes were burning fiercely. He stalked gracefully to Merlin's side and stated he wished to retire for the night in a soft silky hiss.

Making quick farewells to the people he'd been socializing with, Merlin followed Arthur as quickly as possible. Now that he was once again in the Prince's presence his gait became a clumsy stumble to catch up. Arthur said not a word the entire way to his suite. Once through the door, however, he turned on Merlin and backed the slender youth up against the door.

"Arthur? What is it?"

"You let him _touch_ you!"

"That creep you just saw off ? I did not! I shoved him away, you know I did, he landed on you!"

"Before that! You let him touch you, you let them all touch you! I saw it, I _saw_ it! That whore of Morgana's had her hands all over you all night.' Arthur growled out the last and it was too much for Merlin.

Crack! Arthur reeled back from the open-handed slap Merlin dealt him.

"Don't talk about Gwen that way! She's my friend!"

"God damn you, Merlin!"

Suddenly Arthur grabbed him and slammed him up against the door with enough force to make Merlin's head bash against the iron bound oak with an audible crack. The servant cried out softly then went limp in Arthur's arms.

"Oh God, Merlin! What have I done?"

Arthur held the boneless boy in his arms, overcome with horror at his own actions. He hoisted the slim youth over his shoulder and brought him to the bed where he gingerly deposited him on the soft coverlet. Careful to place Merlin's head on a fluffy pillow, he grabbed the boy's soft hand in his own. Kneeling beside him on the bed he could only grasp it and run his calloused thumb back and forth over the snow white knuckles laying limp in his grip.

"God! Merlin! Please, wake up! Please!"

Merlin's skin was paler than normal, almost ashen. Arthur watched him anxiously, willing him to wake. After several minutes of waiting, the Prince was rising to go fetch Gaius when Merlin's eyelids began to flutter. A few seconds later he was blinking those smoky sapphire eyes open, a look of confusion on his face.

"Arthur? Wha...wha happen?"

Biting down hard on his lower lip, Arthur scrunched his eyes shut, guilt eating at his gut.

"I shoved you into the door and you hit your head."

"Oh, thas right, you were yelling at me for somethin. Please don yell again Arthur, my head hurts."

"I won't, Merlin. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear!"

Merlin reached up a hand and laid it tenderly along the side of Arthur's face. He still looked slightly dazed but he met Arthur's azure gaze steadily.

"I know you wouldn't. I trust you with my life." He paused a moment and added, "It's yours don't you know? My life, it's yours. All of it." A small smile curled his pouty pink lips as he watched the intensely blue eyes of the Prince widen at the remark.

Arthur's mouth suddenly went dry. He felt shaken by Merlin's declaration but at the same time the possessive prat inside was shouting in glee, "Mine, mine, mine! All mine! All! Mine!" It was that part that acted next, ignoring the logical portion of his brain that was shouting that this was a bad idea. He leaned down and kissed those enticing lips, lips he'd been dreaming about for months.

At first he merely rubbed his mouth back and forth over Merlin's but when the boy responded by capturing his bottom lip with his own, Arthur was lost. He softly nudged the sorcerer's lips open with his own and slipped his tongue inside, immediately groaning at the flavor he found there. Merlin tasted of honey and sweet spices and something elusive that had Arthur addicted from that first sip. He'd never kissed anyone who tasted like that, Merlin's flavor seemed to spark on his tongue. He deepened the kiss, twining his tongue with the younger man's, exploring every surface of his mouth that he could reach, wanting more, more of that delicious spiced honey. Merlin was groaning too and matching him kiss for kiss, softly sucking on Arthur's tongue and darting his own into the Prince's mouth whenever he could. That wasn't often because it seemed that the older boy was attempting to fill every corner of the mage's mouth with his royal tongue.

Never letting go of Merlin's intoxicating lips, Arthur found himself crawling over his ebony haired servant, his hands roaming over every inch of the boy he could reach. He softly kneed Merlin's legs apart and settled himself between them. He tried to slide his hands under Merlin's tunic only to be denied by the strip of leather inconveniently wrapped around the boy's waist. Mouths still glued together, Arthur's hands were busy untying the knotted belt while Merlin's hands had slid into Arthur's hair. He let his long slender fingers glide between the silky strands of gold again and again, before sliding them gently down the back of the Prince's neck. Trailing them languidly back up the sides of the strong column of the Prince's throat he found a spot just behind Arthur's ears that made him shiver and groan every time Merlin brushed his fingertips over the tender skin.

Having triumphed over the belt, Arthur slipped his hands under the fabric of Merlin's tunic, groaning loudly as his fingers encountered silken soft skin over surprisingly defined muscles. He shoved the surcoat to one side, raising the hem of the tunic as high as he could without letting go of Merlin's mouth for a second. His calloused fingers sought and found the small flat nipples in the middle of pectoral muscles that were surely too well defined for a man who looked like a stiff breeze might snap him in two. Finally breaking the kiss for a moment, Arthur looked down at the younger boy's exposed skin and gasped in surprise, even as his fingers teased pale pink nipples into small, stiff peaks. The sorcerer was all lean length and wiry muscle wrapped in flawless ivory. The part of Arthur's brain that was still working realized that he shouldn't really be surprised considering all the manual labor the lanky youth did in both his and Gaius' service. Arthur ran his fingers over each bump and ridge of Merlin's taut abdomen before sliding them up over ribs that were visible but not prominent. Returning again to Merlin's chest, he curled his fingers in the fine black hair sprinkled there and then leaned up to latch onto his honeyed lips once again.

While Arthur's mouth continued to devour his and his hands continued to roam over Merlin's silky skin, the young sorcerer was making explorations of his own. Not bothering to try and find a way beneath the Prince's clothes just yet, Merlin was content to let his hands wander everywhere he could reach. Lazily, he finally reached his goal and filled his hands with Arthur's incredible arse. How many times had he stared at those perfectly formed half-globes and dreamed of getting his hands on them, a hundred, a thousand? Now that he had Arthur in his hands, he was loathe to let go. He squeezed and massaged the taut flesh, even going so far as to let his fingers run over the crease between and lightly press into the fabric, dipping his fingertips into the valley there.

Feeling Merlin's finger's pressing between his arse cheeks immediately had Arthur arching up and gasping loudly in shocked pleasure. Suddenly, they were both wearing too many damned clothes. Arthur struggled out of his doublet, while Merlin squirmed beneath him attempting to divest himself of surcoat and tunic only to find that Arthur had the edge of the surcoat trapped beneath one knee. Merlin yanked at the long garment while Arthur had successfully rid himself of his shirt and was impatiently yanking at the laces of his breeches. He noticed Merlin's fight with the surcoat and instead of lifting his knee to help, he lowered himself back down to lay directly atop the squirming young man trapped beneath him. He caught Merlin's deep blue gaze with his own for a long moment, bringing both hands up to frame his servant's face, thumbs tracing the high fragile cheekbones. He allowed himself the luxury for once of just _looking_ at the boy's face.

For far too long, he'd only allowed himself snatched glances, furtive examinations from across crowded rooms, stares disguised as glares and secret glimpses when he knew himself to be unobserved. Now he openly let his gaze roam over large, sapphire eyes, pupils blown wide and framed by lush, long black eyelashes that were the envy of no few feminine acquaintances. High, prominent cheekbones flared boldly from an otherwise narrow face and gave Merlin a look of fragility that Arthur knew to be false. A small slender nose hovered over those damned addictive lips, which curved in a full pink cupid's bow over a surprisingly strong chin. Arthur decided it was that chin that saved Merlin's looks from appearing feminine and transformed features that could have been inappropriately girlish into what was instead a uniquely masculine beauty.

Merlin stared back at his Prince but was focused on his eyes alone. Unlike Arthur, he'd had plenty of time to memorize the planes and curves of his master's face. It was Merlin who woke him every morning, who helped him dress each day and who combed the golden hair into a presentable shape (during which process, for some unfathomable reason, Arthur usually kept his eyes closed). It was also expected of a manservant that he watch his master at all times in case he was needed. However, he'd rarely had the opportunity to _really_ look into his Arthur's eyes. Now he felt drenched in cerulean blue. The Prince's eyes seemed to almost glow in the bright silver blaze of the full moon shining through the room's wide open windows.

The young sorcerer finally lifted his hands from where they had stilled on his own surcoat and began to gently explore Arthur's pale golden skin. Once more, he found his fingers drawn to his Prince's broad back where he stroked over familiar scars and massaged his way lower and lower until he reached the loosened edge of Arthur's breeches. Dipping his fingers inside, he continued to stroke and massage until a moan broke from the older man's lips and he found himself being thoroughly kissed again.

Arthur only let go of Merlin's mouth long enough to free him from his troublesome surcoat and tunic. Then like an addict he just kept returning to the sorcerer's lips again and again, tongue stroking, teeth nipping and biting, drinking every drop of moisture the raven haired boy's mouth produced. Dimly he felt Merlin's nail's scraping down his back and across his ribs. The incredible pleasure-pain finally spurred him to let go of those spiced honey lips in order to nibble his way across the younger boys face, to the corner of his jaw and eventually down the side of his narrow alabaster neck. There he'd found a yet another new addiction.

The black-haired boy usually kept his temptingly long, slender throat swaddled in those damned neckerchiefs and Arthur had often longed to just rip them away and devour the skin beneath. Now that he'd found the treasure hidden under those cloth disguises he swore he'd never allow Merlin go anywhere out of his company with his neck exposed. Honey, more damned honey, not just his mouth but even his _skin_ tasted of honey and spices. Inhaling he discovered his manservant smelled of herbs, earth and oak as well as another familiar scent he couldn't quite identify. No one, man or woman, that Arthur had ever been with had tasted like this, had a scent like this. There was no taint of sweat, though he could see it beginning to bead up on the younger man's skin. No whiff of garlic or onion though Arthur knew for a fact that Merlin regularly enjoyed both. Merlin smelled as if he'd just stepped out of a scented bath moments before. Again, that tiny functioning part of Arthur's brain puzzled over the impossibility of this.

However, Merlin's addictive flavor and intoxicating scent drowned out those little questions from that detached bit of brain matter. While his hands and mouth were busy devouring every inch of exposed skin on his servant's body, he was quietly toeing off his boots and wriggling his loosened breeches down. He sealed off Merlin's mouth once more as his hands freed his lover from his breeches as well. He worked the rougher fabric down to mid-thigh, freeing Merlin's rock-hard cock from it's cloth prison. Merlin arched up off the bed, whimpering into the other man's mouth as Arthur's callused hands wrapped around the boy's hardened flesh. The Prince lifted his head and smirked down at the youth panting and whimpering beneath him. Yet another surprise from his ivory-skinned servant. It seemed what nature might have kept from filling out the boy's chest and shoulders had instead been made to fill out his breeches.

Arthur licked his lips as he slowly caressed Merlin's thick length. He kept one hand firmly splayed on his lover's chest as he bucked and heaved, squirming and keening in agonized pleasure as the Prince kept a deliberately slow pace while stroking his leaking erection.

"Arthur! Oh God, Arthur, please!"

The prince leaned down and brushed his lips over Merlin's again before sliding his tongue, lips and teeth down the sorcerer's body in an agonizingly slow exploration. Much to Merlin's disappointment, he bypassed his neediest parts and continued down his legs, nipping and sucking at the flesh of his inner thighs while he worked Merlin's boots and breeches all the way off. He made sure to mark the flawless velvet skin close to Merlin's aching cock. He made sure those marks would be there for days at least, preferably weeks. Above him, The raven haired boy was begging, and groaning, thrashing around in impossible pleasure and frustration. He continued biting and sucking brands into his lover's skin for a few minutes longer.

Finally having freed his lover from his fabric prison, Arthur crawled back up to lay atop Merlin once more. Deliberately thrusting his own leaking erection against Merlin's straining flesh, he bit down hard on his lover's neck, just where it joined his fine boned shoulder. Reveling in the keening noises escaping from the sorcerer's throat, he sucked hard on the bite, rubbing and thrusting his cock against Merlin's.

"Please Arthur, please, I can't...I can't take much more."

"Yes you can. You can and you will and you'll love every second of it, my Merlin."

A spark lit in Merlin's eye at this and in a move so sudden he took his Prince by surprise, the slender boy hooked an arm and leg over his lover and flipped him so that he was the one on his back, Merlin straddling him in the center of the large bed.

Unlike Arthur, who'd been enjoying tormenting Merlin by drawing out their foreplay, Merlin boldly swung around so he was facing away from his lover's face. Bouncing to his hands and knees he gently grasped Arthur's hard cock by it's base and then engulfed nearly the whole shaft in his hot sweet mouth.

"Oh, my fucking God!"

Arthur nearly lost it right then and there. He bucked his hips involuntarily and Merlin gagged a little as the cock in his mouth suddenly jammed into the back of his throat but he recovered quickly and began dragging his mouth up and down the hard length of Arthur's throbbing shaft.

Much to the Prince's shock, he'd never known anyone to suck his cock from that angle before. Instead of the expected sight of the top of a bobbing head, he was presented with Merlin's arse, legs spread to ether side of his chest and the star-shaped entrance to his lover's body was practically right in his face. Especially as Merlin began to move his entire body back and forth to slide his mouth up and down Arthur's pulsing prick instead of using his head and neck like every other partner the Prince had ever had up till that moment.

He couldn't keep his hands off the gorgeous arse so temptingly presented to him and soon his hands were kneading and massaging the small, taut swell of Merlin's buttocks. However, he couldn't take his eyes off the entrance to his lover's secret center. As incredible as Merlin's mouth felt on his cock, he knew he needed to be inside the younger man and he needed it soon. He twisted slightly toward the bedside table, unsurprised when his servant merely turned his body to accommodate the movement without once interrupting his ministrations to his master's lovely cock. Arthur fumbled the drawer open and reached within to withdraw a bottle of oil he kept there for just such situations.

While Merlin remained distracted by his self-appointed task, Arthur poured the oil over the crack of the boy's arse. This finally had Merlin's head popping up and around.

"Wha...what is that?"

Arthur smiled, winked and said, "You just keep doing what you're doing and trust me."

Merlin nodded and sucked the Prince's cooling cock back into the intense heat of his mouth. Arther coated several fingers in the oil before blindly placing the bottle back on the table. He circled that lovely puckered hole in Merlin's arse with one oily fingertip before sliding it inside. Both boys groaned at the feeling. Arthur had hoped Merlin might be tight but he'd never felt anyone so tight in his life. He gently worked his lover's anus open enough to slip a second finger inside. That ebony head was suddenly thrown back as he arched his milky white back and moaned loudly.

"Arthur! Oh, please, oh please, what are you doing to me?"

The prince continued to scissor the boy's tight hole open while curling experienced fingers to find the spot that made the younger man scream in pleasure and practically collapse in his lap. Merlin forgot Arthur's cock for the moment as he felt his lover slip a third oiled finger inside. Nothing and no one had ever been inside his body before and he was having difficulty coping with the blinding pleasure his Prince was lavishing on him.

Arthur spent several long moments curling and twisting his fingers inside his beautiful lover, reveling in every squeak, squeal, moan, groan and whimper he elicited with his skillful hands. He loved the squelching noises made by the abundance of oil on his fingers as they drove in and out of Merlin's tight hole. However, his own need to embed himself deeply in that well oiled opening was growing stronger with every passing second. He withdrew his fingers with an audible pop.

He smiled at Merlin's whimper of loss. "Turn over, Love. Face me, that's it, on your back."

Arthur took a moment to savor the view. Merlin's raven black hair was a tangled cap of curls, small tendrils clinging to the sweat beading his forehead and neck, small rivulets of moisture ran down his narrow but well muscled chest and belly. His magnificent cock was straining against that belly, the tip weeping salty tears of pre-cum. The prince couldn't help but think how this picture was created by and for him. He glanced down Merlin's long elegant legs, crowing inside at the purpling bite marks adorning the boys belly, hips and inner thighs.

He drew closer and pulled Merlin into his lap, cocks rubbing together with such delicious friction. He captured those pouty, honeyed lips once again as he slowly maneuvered Merlin around to push him against the pillows piled at the head of the over-large bed. He wanted Merlin on his back but he also wanted him to be able to see what was happening. He kept his azure gaze locked with Merlin's sapphire eyes as he lifted those pale thighs high and wide. He slicked up his own erection with the oil still dripping from his fingers and positioned himself at Merlin's tight entrance.

He paused for just a moment as that tiny sane voice in his head screamed at him to stop, stop this now, stop this now and never speak of it again. However, Arthur wouldn't have stopped if Uther himself had burst through the door at that very moment. He'd fantasized about this almost from his first meeting with Merlin. He'd dreamed this moment into being and there was no way he could deny either himself or the pleading in Merlin's ocean blue eyes. Slowly he pushed his hips forward, breaching the sorcerer's tightness and inch by slow inch sheathing himself in the exquisite heat of his lover's body. Neck arching, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he felt the boy take his entire length inside, Arthur nearly screamed in pleasure.

Merlin felt his Prince's agonizingly slow infiltration of his body and he writhed in impatient pleasure. He wanted Arthur inside him and he wanted it now! Head thrashing on the pillows he felt every inch of his Prince's cock stretching his virginity wide open. The burn was exquisite, the pain was nothing compared to the feeling of being stuffed full of his lover's flesh. He was panting now, Arthur's name on his tongue with each shallow breath. Finally, when the older boy screamed his pleasure and began to thrust inside him, Merlin ceased to solely be a recipient and he began pushing his hips forward to meet each and every one of his golden lover's thrusts. He reached forward to take his own flesh in hand and pumped it in time with Arthur's rhythm.

Arthur was lost in the most incredible pleasure he'd yet experienced in his life. It felt as if Merlin had been formed expressly for him, his oil slicked tunnel wrapped around the blonde's cock like nothing he'd ever felt before. He was almost crying in sheer delight with every thrust into his lover's burning hot flesh. He felt Merlin meeting him thrust for thrust and he knew he couldn't hold out much longer. However, there was one more thing he wanted to do and Merlin was about to make that an impossibility. He reached forward and stilled the hand that the boy had wrapped around himself.

"No, no Love. Please, please not yet, trust me, please, trust me!"

The black haired sorcerer let his hand drop from his own cock as he concentrated on the mind blowing pleasure he was getting from Arthur's pounding rhythm. He was pretty sure he wasn't going to need his hand anyway. He could feel his nuts tightening already.

"Merlin, please Love, don't cum yet, please, just hold it down a little longer!"

Arthur could barely speak past his own mind-numbing pleasure but he needed for Merlin to just hold out a few minutes more. He screamed once more as he lost anything resembling a rhythm and with a few last frantic jerks of his hips he filled his ivory skinned lover with his scalding hot seed. The Prince felt as though he was emptying his soul deep inside the very core of Merlin's body. At that moment something hit him like a fist in the solar-plexus. He loved Merlin! He didn't just lust after the admittedly beautiful boy, he loved him with all his heart and soul.

That knowledge still boiling in his guts, he yanked his hot, wet cock out of his beloved's body and scooted backwards as quickly as he could before he fell on Merlin's cock and swallowed as much of the boys jerking flesh as he could. As soon as he felt that hot mouth envelop his aching flesh, the sorcerer lost all control and flooded his royal lover's mouth with ropes and ropes of hot jism.

Arthur swallowed every last drop, continuing to massage Merlin's softening flesh with his tongue until he felt hands in his hair and a soft panting, "Please, please no more, it's too sensitive!" He crawled back up alongside his trembling love and curled himself around the other boy, resting his head on his shoulder. Throwing a possessive arm across his chest he also wrapped one brawny leg around both of Merlin's thighs. Unable to stop touching him, Arthur curled his fingers into the sparse black hair on his lover's chest, skimming his fingertips down along the faint treasure trail and then up over one hip, ribs and back to his chest, only to start the pattern on the other side of Merlin's torso.

Merlin turned his head to capture Arthur's lips in a long, tongue tangling kiss but the Prince could tell the younger man was losing his battle with exhaustion. Arthur released those honeyed lips and tucked his head under Merlin's chin, still unable to stop stroking that addictive flesh. Even Merlin's body hair felt like silk. He still couldn't get enough of the unique spicy-sweet, earthy-woods scent that clung to every inch of the sorcerer's impossibly velvet smooth skin. The Prince fell asleep with his fingers tracing lazy circles on the taut abdomen of his pearly skinned love, still lost in the wonder of discovering how deeply he adored the boy nestled in his arms.

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Thanks for reading! Please review if you can. I'd love to know what you think! All comments are welcome, I just ask that you be polite and respectful.


	3. The Morning Always Follows

Arthur woke to weak sunlight streaming across his face. _Merlin forgot to draw the curtains again_ was his first thought. That's when he became aware of the warm body he was tangled up with. He groaned silently, trying to remember the night before.

The feast, that's right, the feast to celebrate his father's victory over the Black Knight. _Yeah, that and supposedly to celebrate my coming of age since the first feast for that was interrupted by the Black Knight. Huh, the spotlight was definitely not on me though. I still can't believe father had Gaius drug me! I doubt anyone really believes it. They've got to be thinking I'm a coward who hid behind his daddy when the bogeyman came to visit._

A small movement and a soft little snuffle came from the body he was wrapped around, bringing his attention back to the present. He cracked open an eyelid and was confronted with a short messy mop of raven black hair snugged up just beneath his chin. Glancing slightly sideways, his eyes traveled down a long lean length of snowy white skin, sinewy muscles, surprisingly pert buttocks and long, strong, well shaped legs.

 _Oh, Gods, no! Please, no!_ He closed his eyes tightly and prayed he'd been imagining things. _It can't be Merlin! Anyone but Merlin, please!_ However, when he opened his eyes again, he was sure it was his manservant. No one else he'd ever known had skin like that, not combined with that shiny blue-black hair. Add in those long, slender limbs and it couldn't possibly be any one else, no matter how much he wished it was.

He held still, not wanting to wake up the man in his arms until he could think straight. However, that was the same moment, Merlin stirred against him, tilted his head back, opened his wide Atlantic-blue eyes and smiled at Arthur. It was the purest, sweetest, most heart-stopping smile the young prince had ever seen in his life. He was overwhelmed with feelings, his heart tightened in his chest, his breath froze in his lungs, hot lead spread through his veins like fire. That smile hit him like a booted foot to the solar-plexus. It was too much, it was far too much for the young man who'd been trained since birth to suppress his feelings, to show none of the tender emotions.

That pure, radiant, _loving_ smile made him panic like nothing else could have at that moment. He hadn't had time to process the night before, he hadn't had time to remember the self-revelation he'd had in those last passionate moments with Merlin before they both drifted off to sleep in ecstatic oblivion. All he could see was the pure love shining out of Merlin's eyes and it terrified him. An army of a thousand ogres covered in diamond plate armour couldn't have inspired the level of fear that smashed into him with that one gentle look from sleepy sapphire eyes.

"Out! You have to get out! Now!"

He shoved Merlin off him as if the boy's buttery soft skin was the deadliest contact poison. Merlin's smile evaporated only to be replaced by an expression of the most terrible confusion. He shook his head slightly, utterly bewildered by Arthur's behavior. His slow response pushed the Prince's panic into rage.

"I said, get out!"

"Arthur? Arthur, what's wrong?"

To say Merlin was confused would have been the understatement of the century. He'd fallen asleep in the arms of a man who couldn't stop touching him, had drifted off with the feel of his lover's lips and fingertips still roaming his skin even as he himself hadn't possessed the energy to maintain consciousness. That man had called him "Love" and from his lips the word had rung with conviction.

The man yanking him out of his bed by the arm was a different creature entirely. The expression on his face was cold and savage. He jerked Merlin's arm so hard the boy was fairly certain he'd dislocated his shoulder even as he landed naked on the cold, hard wood of the highly polished floor. His head started to spin, a throbbing pain exploding at the back of his skull as his spine jolted from the sudden impact with the unyielding surface of dark oak planks.

Moving with the extreme speed that years of physical training had given him, Arthur gathered Merlin's clothes and threw them at him. Gingerly rising, his legs trembling and hands shaking with pain and nerves, Merlin dressed as quickly as he could even as the Prince did the same. Still clutching his belt and boots in his hands, the black haired sorcerer found himself being wrenched by the same arm and dragged toward the chamber door even as an involuntary cry of pain escaped his throat.

"You're such a fucking girl, Merlin!"

Just as he reached the door, Arthur stopped and dragged Merlin upright, causing him such pain as to make him nearly black out. Bringing his lips close , Arthur hissed in Merlin's ear, "If you _ever_ speak of what happened last night to anyone, you'll regret it till your dying day. Be sure of that. It never happened, you understand?"

Merlin, barely able to breath from pain, nodded almost imperceptibly. It wasn't enough of an acknowledgment for the crazed man holding him in his agonizing grip. Arthur repeated himself, "It. Never. Happened. Not for you. Not for me. Not for anyone. You got that? Answer me!" The prince shook him and Merlin nearly screamed, "Yes!"

The bewildered boy was barely cognizant of the way Arthur practically ripped the door off his hinges in his panicked frenzy. He was aware again of more tearing pressure on his shoulder as he was unceremoniously shoved into the corridor beyond the wooden portal. He'd barely cleared the threshold before that same door slammed hard behind him. He slumped weakly against the smooth planks and slid to the floor, cradling his injured arm against his chest. His belt fell from a hand rendered useless with pain but he did manage to keep hold of his boots for all the good it did him.

The guards on duty on either side of the door looked down at him in astonishment. They could see the boy's arm was hanging loosely at a very disturbing angle. They looked at each other and nodded shortly. The right-hand guard, Merlin knew him as Aldwyn, sprinted quickly down the hall and disappeared around a corner. Merlin, shook his head, vainly attempting to clear his head of the red haze of pain and the paralysis of a crippling confusion. He pushed back against the door and began to inch himself up its smooth oak surface, trying to force himself to his feet. The remaining guard, Derfael, placed a gentle hand on his undamaged shoulder.

"Stay still boy, aid will be here soon."

Merlin was too dazed to argue and slumped back to the floor with the tiniest of whimpers. Aldwyn reappeared in short order, retaking his position next to the door. All three of them knew that had Aldwyn been caught away from his appointed position for even a moment, had he been reported, it would have meant a vicious flogging. A punishment that meant weeks of recovery or possibly even death from infected wounds. It was a testament of the esteem that Merlin was held in that the man risked himself thus to fetch help for the sweet natured lad.

Within moments of the soldier's return, two off-duty footmen appeared bearing a litter. Despite weak but heartfelt protests from Merlin, he was quickly but gently loaded onto the stretcher and whisked away from the Prince's chambers. To Merlin, it seemed that no time elapsed at all before he was being gently transferred from the litter to his own bed in Gaius's chambers.

He was only half-aware of the low voiced exchange of words between his litter bearers and his guardian, the Royal Physician.

"...apparently the Prince...no, no idea, Aldwyn said there was a shout or two and then Merlin tumbled out the door and collapsed...obviously his arm...Derfael mentioned...dried blood...yes...back of his neck..."

He let go then, too confused and hurt to try to continue to comprehend the voices and just let the sound swirl around over his head, meaningless. His shoulder, back, chest and head were throbbing sickeningly with pain. However, it was the emotional shock that was the worst. He'd been so certain as he fell asleep the night before, that Arthur returned his feelings. Had it been some sick, twisted game? Even if he regretted a drunken tumble in the sheets with a servant why had he been so enraged? No, something about even that seemed wrong. Arthur hadn't been _that_ drunk the night before. Merlin was remembering the events leading up to that tumble in Arthur's bed and the Prince had been lucid if not overly rational. He'd been angry then as well, angry enough to knock Merlin unconscious for the first time since they'd met.

However, he remembered it had been accidental, Arthur hadn't meant to slam him against the door that hard. He'd been genuinely remorseful when Merlin had come to. Was that it? Had it been a pity fuck? Had Arthur felt guilty enough at the time to throw Merlin a bone, in a sexual sense? It was true, Merlin had initiated the caressing by telling the Prince that his life belonged to him. He'd been dazed at the time, had been trying to reassure his friend that he was forgiven. He hadn't actually meant it in a sexual sense, per se even though he was in love with Arthur and had been for some time. He'd meant the words to convey his dedication, loyalty and clemency for the accidental harm inflicted on him by the man who'd become the center of his universe.

It had been Arthur who had instigated the sex. _He'd_ kissed Merlin, he'd been the one whose hands had wandered all over the sorcerer's body, had started to strip him of his clothes before Merlin's hands had even lifted to slide into Arthur's hair. He was the one who'd spread Merlin's legs and settled between them before stripping him of his trousers, already having dispossessed him of tunic and surcoat.

So preoccupied with these thoughts was he, that Merlin didn't even notice Gaius approach his bed and stare down at the seemingly unconscious boy whose care had been entrusted to him by his mother. This wasn't the first time he'd failed to protect the boy he loved like a son but this was the first time he was truly mystified as to what had happened to him. The footmen who'd brought him home had given him all the information they had but it was precious little. The Prince had shouted two or three times and then ejected Merlin from his chambers in this condition.

His right shoulder was clearly dislocated though how and when that had happened was a mystery. More concerning to Gaius was the report, second hand from one of the guards standing duty outside Arthur's suite, of dried blood matting the back of Merlin's head and streaked down the back of his neck. Dried blood meant it wasn't a recent injury, so why hadn't Merlin been brought to him before this? What was Arthur's role in his ward's condition?

Gaius had retired to bed long before Arthur would have left the feast and the physician knew that Merlin would not have left the feast in any other manner but at the Prince's side. He hadn't been overly concerned when Merlin wasn't there in the morning. His duties to the Prince occasionally required the lad to remain with Arthur through the night; especially if the older boy had gotten thoroughly drunk as he was often known to do at purely celebratory feasts.

However, Merlin had never returned the next morning half-conscious and badly injured after a simple celebration! If he'd been injured while attempting to protect the prince in some altercation, why had no one fetched the physician to tend to their injuries? Why had Arthur been shouting at Merlin before hurling him into the hall clutching his boots and belt? The older man sighed, knowing he'd get no answers before Merlin was awake enough to answer questions. He could hardly summon the Prince to answer for his ward's condition.

Merlin was sliding deeper into his confusion and barely responded to any of Gaius's verbal attempts to rouse him. It wasn't until the physician attempted to examine the extent of the damage done to his body that he truly woke for the first time since he'd arrived back at his room. The moment Gaius touched his right arm, he arched up off the bed and screamed. Tears streaming from their corners, his wide blue eyes popped open and Gaius could see at once that they were hugely dilated.

"Merlin? Merlin, can you hear me, can you answer me?"

The dazed boy looked at Gaius and whimpered out a small, "Yes".

"Can you tell me what hurts? Where do you hurt, Merlin?"

The raven-haired boy just whimpered, tears still streaming from the corners of eyes that pleaded with Gaius.

"I need you to turn over on your side, can you do that for me, son?"

"No."

"Then I am going to have to do it for you, try to help me if you can."

Just then, Gwen arrived in the doorway. Her hand flew to cover her mouth as soon as her eyes landed on Merlin, laying in his bed softly mewling in agony, silver tears tracking his ashen cheeks.

"Gwen, bless you child. Please, I need your help turning Merlin on his side. I need to examine the back of his head, the guards who sent him here said he was bleeding from there."

Fighting back tears of her own, Gwen assisted the elderly physician in rolling Merlin over. Even though they moved him to his apparently uninjured side, he screamed again as the movement jarred his dislocated shoulder. No longer able to keep her tears from falling, Gwen simply carried on as if her cheeks were dry. She held Merlin in place as Gaius gently probed his blood matted hair. Every small movement of his body forced either a whimper or a loud cry from the injured boy and the blood had formed a thick, sticky clot in his dense black hair, rendering the wound all but invisible to Gaius's careful examination.

"What happened to him?" Gwen gasped around the sob she was suppressing.

"I don't know yet. This is no good, I'm going to have to cut the hair away and I fear I can't do that until I get that shoulder back into place."

He leaned down close to Merlin's ear and spoke softly,"I'm sorry son but there's no help for it. I have to push your arm back into joint and it's going to hurt like nothing you've ever felt before. Just try and hold on and I'll make it as quick as I can."

He instructed Gwen how to hold Merlin in place as he took careful hold of the hanging limb and pulled the arm out straight. Merlin let out the loudest scream yet and kept screaming until his voice gave out. Unfortunately, that was before Gaius had managed to force the joint back together. By the time the job was done, the boy had finally, mercifully passed out from the pain. Once he was unconscious, it made the rest of his examination much easier.

Gwen held Merlin's arm in place as the old healer wrapped it tightly, immobilizing it before turning to the rest of his ward's injuries. Even knowing how little clothing Merlin possessed, they'd had to cut away his tunic. Gwen carefully cut the matted hair from the back of Merlin's head, shearing it as close to the skin as she dared. Even so, it was enough to expose the wound for inspection. The skin was split and as soon as the clotted hair had been removed, fresh blood began to seep steadily from it's edges. White bone glinted through the crimson smear. The physician fumbled for water and his precious magnifying glass.

"Well, we can thank God his skull doesn't appear to be obviously fractured. There may just be a slight hairline fissure, come here child, your eyes are better than mine. Do you see anything?"

"I see a bit of a crack but I think it's just the surface, it doesn't look as if it goes all the way through."

"I'm going to need to sew this closed, can you thread the needle for me?"

The two shuffled about getting Merlin's head wound closed and studiously avoided discussing that during their ministrations to his head and upper body, both physician and temporary assistant had noticed bruising of a specific and suspicious nature over the boys neck, chest, shoulders and abdomen. Gaius knew he'd have to examine Merlin in places no young lady should be exposed to.

"Gwen, would you please see if you can find me either Gruffydd or Hywel? They are the ones who brought Merlin back and both told me they would make themselves available should I need further assistance with him."

The pretty girl, heart aching for this boy she adored, simply nodded and whisked herself out of the room, fighting back more tears as she swiped at her wet cheeks and headed for the servant's quarters.

Gaius bandaged Merlin's head wound while he waited for one of the kindly footmen to return for what was sure to be the hardest examination he'd ever performed in his long career. A single tear from each eye managed to escape the old man's usual iron control as he looked down on the boy who had become for him, the son he'd never had.

"Oh my boy, what has he done to you?" he whispered into the still, quiet air.

 

______________________________________________________________________________

After shoving Merlin through the door earlier, Arthur had begun to pace back and forth, walking the full length of his room over and over. He couldn't think, he had to calm down somehow. Less than half an hour after Merlin was gone, the Prince stormed from his rooms and headed for the stables.

Saddling his own horse, he was riding out through the gates of Camelot within minutes, heading straight for the forest. Once among the trees, he let the horse have it's head while he finally felt his heart beat decelerate, his muscles begin to loosen and his brain start to clear enough to function again. Images from the night before began to play in his head: Merlin laughing at the feast, Gwen's arm around his waist, the stunned look on Merlin's face as his head impacted on the door just before he crumpled into Arthur's arms, the smile he gave Arthur as he'd tried to apologize to the younger boy for hurting him, the way Merlin had looked all flushed and trembling, the ecstasy on his face as Arthur moved inside him. He remembered the sounds as well, the gasps and whimpers, the way he groaned Arthur's name, moaned it, sighed it. He remembered Merlin's hand on his face as he told him that his life belonged to his Prince.

It still seemed far too much to process. Last night, after the feast, had been the most amazing night he'd ever experienced. No one he'd ever been with had ever come close to making him feel the way Merlin had. He remembered his moment of revelation, the very second when he'd realized that he was in love with that beautiful, clumsy, sarcastic, disrespectful, sweet, naive, infuriating, loyal, lovely, loving boy. The young man who'd proved he would die to protect him and for whom he'd risked his own life to safeguard in turn.

He had long since acknowledged to himself that Merlin meant far more to him than a simple servant. He'd felt an intense physical attraction to the brash youth since the moment they met. Who wouldn't? He was beautiful even with those rather out-sized ears. Arthur remembered how his breath had hitched and come faster when Merlin had swung for him at that first meeting and he'd grabbed the younger man's arm using it to twist the slender body up against his own. The raven haired boy's continued defiance had only served to fire his arousal higher even as it enraged him.

It was that attraction that caused him to follow the boy when he'd seen him hurrying from the castle only two days later. Clearly intent on some errand for his guardian, it seemed as though he was going to just ignore the Prince and keep walking, even after Arthur had called out to him. No one ignored him! Certainly not some country bumpkin with pretensions of equality to Camelot's prince and premier warrior. So he'd thrown out a taunt the boy couldn't ignore. When Merlin had given him that little half bow, smirking, his sparkling sapphire eyes mocking as they looked up at him through ridiculously long, inky lashes it pushed the Prince even further. Arthur had wanted, more than anything, to grab him, push him up against the nearest wall and kiss those smirking lips until the gorgeous creature begged for mercy. Unable to do that with so many witnesses looking on, he'd challenged him instead and ignited the flames of enmity instead of passion.

It had to be said, he was never bored when Merlin was around. His mind wandered back to the first time Merlin had saved his life. They'd both been horrified when Uther awarded Merlin the dubious honor of becoming the Prince's manservant. He'd decided he would make the aggravatingly attractive boy's life miserable with work so hard and demeaning that he'd quit and head back to whatever backwater village he'd come from. Arthur would then be able to find his peace of mind again. Instead to his astonishment, Merlin had risen to every challenge the Prince could think to throw at him and while he performed every task Arthur ever asked of him, he'd stubbornly refused to act subservient to his lord and master.

It's why he'd trusted Merlin, almost from the moment he became his personal servant. When Merlin told him something, he knew he meant it. He refused to be a "boot-licker" as he'd termed it. He would never just tell Arthur what he wanted to hear, he challenged him and his way of thinking all the time. It wasn't something the young Royal was used to but to his surprise, he'd come to appreciate it more and more as time wore on.

This line of thought brought him back to the night before when Merlin had smiled at him and told him he trusted Arthur with his life, just minutes after the Prince had knocked him unconscious. He'd meant it, he'd meant it when he said his life was Arthur's, all of it. It was that statement that finally broke Arthur's control. He'd been struggling with his desire for Merlin more and more lately, the attraction growing stronger as each day passed. It had scared him badly. He shouldn't want the boy that badly. He shouldn't want anyone that badly. That kind of desire, that level of passion and affection gave too much power to the one it was focused on.

He was the future King of Camelot for God's sake! He couldn't let a servant boy, no matter how good and loyal, hold his heart and soul in the palm of his slender hand. Though that was the problem, wasn't it? Merlin wasn't just a lovely looking lad, he was as beautiful on the inside as he was on the outside, maybe even more so. He was kind, he was loyal, he was protective and he was always determined to do the "right thing" no matter the consequences to himself. He was always so damn cheerful and optimistic it made Arthur itch to slap him sometimes. How could the boy stand for an entire day in the stocks being pelted with all sorts of rotting vegetable matter and still grin at the guards when they came to release him at nightfall? Even when it was Arthur's fault he'd been punished, Merlin was never truly angry at him. His capacity for love and generosity was something Arthur didn't think he himself would ever be capable of but being around Merlin often made him want to try.

That made the morning just gone a failure of _epic_ proportions for Arthur. He'd behaved worse than the Royal Prat that Merlin was always calling him. He'd just been so overwhelmed by the realization of how much he loved his "idiot" manservant, turned friend now turned lover. If Merlin had remained sleeping for just a few minutes more, the morning would have turned out so differently. He'd have had time to deal with the panic and the fear. He'd have realized that loving Merlin wasn't so scary. Merlin would never hurt him, would never use the power of his love against him, _never_. It wouldn't even occur to him. Merlin had never been anything other than loyal and protective. That protective streak of his was so endearing, like watching a domestic kitten trying to protect a lion from danger.

Suddenly an image of Merlin's face as he'd dragged him from his bed that morning flashed across Arthur's mind. He'd been so desperate to get Merlin away from him in that moment, as if Merlin was suddenly the deadliest foe he'd ever faced in his life. When the boy had just sat there blinking at him and asking what was wrong, he'd snapped. Panic had triggered a fight or flight response in him and he'd chosen fight.

Now, instead of being overwhelmed with fear, he was swamped with guilt. He sighed. He was going to have to man-up and apologize to Merlin when he saw him later. He looked up at the sky and was surprised to see it was gone noon. He'd skipped breakfast for obvious reasons and now that he'd sorted through his confused feelings, he was ravenous. He'd missed lunch but would stop by the kitchens on his way back to his rooms and when Merlin brought him his dinner that night, he'd apologize to him. He still didn't know where his relationship with Merlin stood but at least he'd accepted the fact that he was in love with the skinny idiot.


	4. Circumstantial Evidence

When Arthur returned to his chambers, he opened the door in time to see Morgana's furious face but not her fist as it flashed forward and hit him dead in the nose.

"What the hell? Morgana...!"

As he raised his hands to grab his face, the pain of his broken nose causing his eyes to tear, her fist flashed out again, this time hitting him in the solar plexus and knocking the air straight out of him. As he doubled over, blood seeping from his nose, he saw her knee coming but couldn't dodge it. Fast as lightning she brought it up catching him under the chin, whipping his head back and causing him to fall straight down on his arse. Coughing and wheezing, he attempted to catch his breath while she began slapping him about the head and neck, her fury unabated by his relatively helpless position. He curled into a ball as she also began to kick him, all the time screaming, "How could you? You fucking animal? How could you do that?"

Thankfully she was wearing soft indoor shoes and not her riding boots or surely she'd have broken some ribs as she continued to kick any exposed area of the Prince's body. Finally the blinding pain in his face receded and he was able to catch his breath while she rained less crippling blows all over him. Eventually he was able to reach out and grab her by the ankle and jerk her off her feet. She too landed on her arse, only she was luckier than Arthur as she managed to come down on a thick carpet and not the highly polished and punishingly hard oak of the floor.

The fall seemed to knock the fight out of her, at least temporarily. Arthur knew if he could get her talking, she probably wouldn't hit him again...probably. He met her clear green eyes and was astonished to see them awash with tears. Morgana rarely cried unless it was after one of her worse nightmares.

"Morgana, what is it, what's wrong? What's happened?"

She looked at him incredulously, shaking her head back and forth in true consternation. What the hell was wrong with him that he could do those things to Merlin and only hours later look at _her_ in confusion? How could he wonder at her anger?

"I'm talking about what you did to Merlin, you fucking pig!"

He at least had the grace to flush a little at the accusation in her voice. However, it wasn't really her business and he thought her reaction was a little severe under the circumstances. He was also a bit surprised that Merlin had confided in her and said so.

"I take it he told you, then?"

"Told me? _Told me?_ Are you insane? He's not in a condition to tell anyone anything!"

"What are you talking about?"

"What the hell is wrong with you Arthur? You break his skull, rip his arm out of socket, rape him and then throw him out into the passage like a bit of trash for the staff to clean up and you're going to get defensive with _me_?"

Arthur's jaw dropped at this description of the mornings events.

"That's not what happened!"

"No? Then you tell me who it was who shoved him out of your door this morning in exactly that condition? You tell me why there's blood all over your pillows, why there's blood on the inside of your door at exactly the height of _his_ head. You tell me why the guards had to call for a litter to take him from the floor outside your door. You tell me why Gwen had to hold him down while he screamed his voice out when they set his shoulder, why she had to shave the back of his head to find out that his skull was cracked. Why he was covered in bruises and bite marks and then you tell me why she had to call one of those litter-bearers back so Gaius could determine whether or not he'd been...been...oh God, oh God! How could you?" She was openly sobbing now.

"I talked to that f-footman, he told me himself what he saw when he brought Merlin from your door to Gaius's chambers. He told me what he saw when he had to go back later to help Gaius assess how much more damage there was beneath Merlin's breeches." Her accusing glare withered.

"Morgana, I did not rape him! I swear I didn't. We had sex, yes but I didn't rape him! I swear it! I knew he hit his head but when he came to, he seemed fine and..."

She interrupted him there,"When he _came to?_ Tell me Arthur, did this consensual sex happen before or after he _'came to'_?"

"It wasn't like that!"

"I also heard you assaulted one of the guests at the feast just before you dragged Merlin back here. Was that why you attacked him too?"

"I didn't attack, Merlin! You're twisting things around! I was angry, we had an argument and he slapped me. I pushed him against the door and he hit his head on it. It was an accident, I didn't mean to shove him that hard."

"What did you say to make _Merlin_ slap you?, " Morgana said in astonishment.

Arthur mumbled his answer, not wanting to tell Morgana for fear it would start another round of punches and kicks from her.

"Stop mumbling and tell me, you arse!"

His voice still low he said, "I may have called Gwen a...a...ImayhavecalledGwenawhore."

"You called what a who?"

"I called Gwen a whore!" He finally blurted the words unwillingly.

"You utter toss-pot! You deserved that slap!"

"Anyway, I felt awful when he collapsed so I lay him in the bed."

"And when he came to you thought that would be a good time to _fuck him_ rather than call for a physician?"

"Will you just shut up for a moment? I lay him down on the bed and was about to call for Gaius when he woke up. I apologized and well, one thing sort of led to another."

"Yes, that does explain the blood all over your bed and God help me, the bite marks everywhere. You really are a fucking animal, Arthur! You want to tell me when it was you ripped his arm from its joint? Did he try to run away from the _one thing that led to the other_?"

She was still glaring at him, clearly not believing his version of events. However, she wasn't crying or hitting him anymore, so there was some improvement in the situation.

"I didn't know about his arm." He paused to think about that morning. He winced when he remembered yanking Merlin so hard he flew off the bed and landed on the floor. Morgana, mouth tight, continued to stare at him as if she wanted to personally slice his bollocks off herself. His thoughts weren't far off the mark.

"I guess that must have happened this morning." He couldn't meet Morgana's eyes because of all the things that had happened between him and Merlin, his actions in the cold dim light of the dawn were the ones he was most ashamed of.

"When I woke this morning," he paused for a moment, took a deep breath and continued on,"when I woke up and he was there, I...I panicked, I just lost it and all I could think of was that he needed to leave, I needed for him to get away from me."

Morgana held on to her tongue with a struggle that was evident on her face and let Arthur fumble it out.

"I wanted him gone and he was just sitting there blinking at me like a fool and asking what was wrong. I got angry then and yelled at him to get out but still he just sat there staring at me like a frog on a rock. So I grabbed him and pulled him out of the bed. I guess I must have pulled too hard."

He stopped there, unwilling to describe for Morgana how he'd dragged Merlin across the chamber by that same arm and threatened him before tossing him out of the room. However, this was Morgana and she always could sense when he was holding something back."

"Do you want to know why I don't believe you didn't rape him? Do you?"

Arthur still wouldn't look her in the eye.

"I talked to Gaius you know. I wanted to see Merlin for myself once I'd gotten poor Gwen calmed down. He told me that when he asked Merlin what happened, he kept repeating two phrases. He kept saying, 'Nothing happened, it didn't happen, it didn't happen, nothing happened, not him, not me, nothing happened' That's all he would say before he wasn't able to speak at all anymore. Gaius can't wake him now. Before they set his arm and he passed out from the pain, Gaius said he was drifting in and out of consciousness but now he won't wake up at all."

That's when Morgana crawled over to where Arthur was still sitting where he'd fallen. She brought her face right up to his, grabbed his chin and wrenched his head around, forcing his gaze to meet hers. She searched his eyes as she accused, "You threatened him, didn't you? You threatened him not to tell anyone what you did to him, didn't you?"

His eyes closed and Morgana was shocked to see a tear escape from under one tightly closed lid. He simply nodded, "I did but I did _not_ rape him. I hurt him, I didn't know how badly, I swear I really didn't realize how hurt he was but I swear on my mothers grave. I. Did. _Not_. Rape. Him. It was dark in here last night, we never got around to lighting any candles, I didn't notice he was bleeding. This morning, I was so out of my head I didn't know I'd hurt his arm."

"You are such a self-absorbed prick, you know that Arthur?. I doubt you'd believe it would even be possible for you to rape someone. Who could resist you? Right? The man everyone in Camelot is just _dying_ to bed." Her lip was curled as she added, "It will probably come to a shock to you but your appeal is not universal."

She got up off the floor then and headed for the door. Just before she left she tossed over her shoulder, "Gaius would like to speak to you, by the way and don't forget we're dining with your father in about an hour. I'd seriously advise you not to be late."

* * *

 _Gaius would like to speak to you, by the way..._

Arthur curled up on his side right there on the floor. By now he was sure it was all over the castle that he'd beaten and raped his manservant. Hell, it was probably all over the upper and lower towns as well. He knew he hadn't raped Merlin but the full truth was probably worse than the partial truth.

He _had_ broken his skull, he _had_ torn his arm from it's socket and then he _had_ threatened him not to tell anyone _._ All because he'd been too stupid and scared to admit he loved him. He hadn't meant to do him _any_ physical harm, those injuries were both truly accidental. He had obviously not been restraining his considerable strength while his passions where inflamed.

Pulling himself off the floor, he went to dress himself for supper. He'd see Gaius before he joined his father and Morgana. He wanted to get that interview done as quickly as possible and this way he had an excuse to be brief. _Coward._ Even as he thought it, he knew it was true. If he hadn't been such a coward this morning, Merlin might have been alright. Arthur was sure the extra stress and dislocated shoulder had exacerbated the head injury the younger boy had sustained the night before.

The Prince paused by his bed and looked down at the red sheets. He saw now what he'd failed to see in the self-centered panic that had consumed him early that morning. Dark rusty smears and thicker, darker stains covered one pillow. There were drops and splatters in other places but the most damning evidence was concentrated where Merlin's head had lain. His fingers found their way to the center of the largest mark. Merlin's life. It was Merlin's _life_ dried up thick and stiff on his pillow...

Trembling, Arthur stood in front of the physician's door and began to panic again. _What the hell is wrong with me these days? Whatever happened to "I don't get nervous"?_ A deep breath and he raised his hand to knock, paused again before finally tapping on the wood three times. _Yellow bastard,_ he called himself as he hoped perhaps Gaius wouldn't hear the faint knock.

His luck seemed as absent as his courage that day. The old man opened the door and with the iciest expression he'd ever seen on that kindly wrinkled face, gestured for the Prince to enter.

"If you would please, your highness, take a seat. If you don't mind I have some questions for you and the answers may be vital to the recovery of my ward."

Arthur sat as indicated and faced the man he'd known his whole life. The same man who'd bandaged his scraped knees, hands and other body parts as a child. This same man had sewn up his first battle wounds and had nursed him through every fever, sniffle, sneeze or cough he'd ever had since his very first breath of air in this world.

"I'm most concerned about the wound to the back of his head. Were you present when he sustained it?"

Eyes firmly fixed on the old man's forehead, Arthur answered, "Yes."

"Can you tell me approximately when it happened?"

"Close to midnight, I believe."

"Did he lose consciousness at the time?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"It was just a few minutes, I highly doubt it was more than 3 or 4 minutes. I was just about to send for you when he woke up."

"Was he lucid when he regained consciousness?"

"Yes, he seemed fine. His voice was clear and coherent, he seemed his normal self at the time."

"Was there a reason you didn't call for me _after_ he woke?"

Arthur squirmed at this but kept his gaze fixed on that wrinkled brow.

"Well, I apologized for the shove that sent his head into the door and he forgave me for it and then...well..." Arthur trailed off unable to describe to this man what happened next. If it wasn't bad enough that he'd known this man his whole life, he was also Merlin's guardian. His tongue froze for a long moment before he finally looked Gaius in the eyes. It was far more frightening than facing griffins or giant spiders or creatures with venom so potent a single bite was instantly fatal.

"Gaius, I swear to you that was an accident. I never meant to hurt him."

The old man's blue eyes remained cold. "What about his other injuries?"

Shame and guilt crawling all over him, eyes pleading for understanding had he but known it, he whispered, "I didn't rape him, Gaius, I swear to you on my mother's grave I didn't. He was awake and he was willing. Please believe that."

"If you say it is so, _Sire_ , I must believe it is true." His eyes were still glacial and unyielding.

"All right so as he was...willing...how did his arm become dislocated from his shoulder?"

"That happened this morning. He wouldn't get out of bed so I grabbed him by the arm and yanked him out. I was panicking and he was just sitting there staring at me and I didn't realize it was because he'd hurt his head. I just...I got angry and I clearly pulled too hard." There were tears in his eyes again. He fought them back and managed to keep them from falling. "I was in a panic and not thinking clearly and I know that's no excuse but I couldn't think past getting him out of my room so I _could_ think and he landed on the floor and I threw his clothes to him and he managed to dress while I dressed and then I dragged him to the door...Oh God, I didn't know how badly I'd already hurt his arm and I dragged him by it to the door...then...then." The prince froze again. His throat closing over the horror of what he'd done then to his injured and addled lover.

Jaw clenched tight, he forced the words out to the one man in the world who deserved the truth. "I threatened him. I...told him that if...if he told anyone about...what...we'd done...I told him I'd make him sorry. I told him it didn't happen, as far as he was concerned...as far as I was concerned...nothing happened."

"And then you shoved him out into the hallway and slammed the door on him, leaving him collapsed at the feet of your guards."

Arthur flinched but nodded. That's exactly what he'd done. He looked up again, savagely gnawing on his lower lip.

"I had no idea he was so injured that he couldn't walk. I was too wrapped up in myself to notice him and I am so so sorry."

"Well, if he ever wakes again, you can tell him that yourself. Right now I think you should take a look at your handiwork, my Lord."

Gaius jerked his chin in the direction of Merlin's room and Arthur walked slowly up the stairs and into the black haired boy's tiny room. He shut the door behind him and stood gazing down over the fragile looking figure in the minuscule bed. He was lying on his back, his right arm bound tightly across his chest like a swaddled infant. His head was bandaged too, a wide white band with a tuft of black hair sticking out the top. Arthur noted that his feet were hanging off the end of the bed, the frame too short for his long, lanky body.

 _He must usually sleep curled up on his side._ _God, what am I thinking? He may never wake up again, let alone sleep again._ Arthur had seen enough injured men in his time to know that Merlin wasn't asleep, he was deeply unconscious. He sat on the side of the hard little bed and held Merlin's uninjured hand. Now he was feeling a terror of a different sort than this morning.

 _What if he never wakes up? I don't think I can live without him. I_ won't _be able to live with myself if he doesn't. He has to wake up! He has to!_ Arthur leaned down close to Merlin's ear and whispered, "Please wake up, I love you, I need you! I'm so, so sorry, I never meant to hurt you, I swear, please, I didn't mean to hurt you like this, like anything! Please, please wake up, I need to tell you this and know you hear me!"

The ebony lashes remained unmoving on ashen cheeks. Merlin was always pale but it was usually a healthy, beautiful pearly white. Now his skin was waxen and almost grayish in appearance. There was only the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest to indicate that he still lived. Arthur checked his wrist and found his pulse, it felt strong if a little slow. Small things but still a comfort to the distraught prince.

He spoke softly to the boy who'd become the center of his universe and made a vow.

"I swear Merlin, I swear to you on my mother's grave that I never meant to hurt you and I will _never_ hurt you again. Please come back to me...please...I need you."

The speech was murmured softly but the sharp eared old man standing just outside the door heard it none the less. He softened ever so slightly toward the Prince. _Perhaps_ he'd been telling the truth when he related his version of the events leading to Merlin's collapse. However, the physician remained bitterly angry over the blind, carelessness and utter selfishness of Arthur's actions. He may not have _meant_ to hurt Merlin but he _had_ and he'd hurt him badly at that. Then the spoiled prat been too self-absorbed to even notice the damage he'd inflicted on the young man Gaius had come to love as dearly as a son. Even if Merlin recovered, it would be a long time, if ever, before he'd forgive the Prince for harming his beloved ward.

With the ice of his anger still freezing his veins, Gaius pushed the door open and spoke in a stingingly polite manner.

"I'm sorry Sire but I must ask that you leave, what Merlin needs most now is peace and _quiet_ to rest in if he is ever to make any kind of recovery."

It was clearly a dismissal, if not a downright banishment. Under normal circumstances Arthur would never have tolerated it, even from Gaius. But the circumstances were far from normal and if anyone in all the kingdom had the right to be angry with him right now, it was Gaius. It was a testament to the man's rage that he never offered to treat the Prince's broken nose or gave him a salve for his bruised face.

Arthur rose without a single word of argument, just pausing on his way out the door to the physician's main chamber to ask diffidently, "Please...let me know when he wakes."

He deliberately used the word _when_ rather than _if_. He would not let himself even entertain the idea that Merlin might not ever wake again. It was a burden that could not be borne were it to come to pass. The sweet, brave, smart, loyal, sarcastic, generous, loving and sometimes ridiculous raven haired boy was woven so tightly into every strand of the fabric of his life now, he knew there was no way he'd survive losing him. He was the weft to Arthur's warp and if that were gone, his life would simply unravel and disintegrate.

* * *

"You are late again, Arthur. If it was the fault of that idiot manservant of yours, he'll be spending tomorrow in the stocks."

"It wasn't Merlin's fault I'm late, Father. Only mine."

Then of course, Morgana had to chime in on the subject. Looking to Uther she said, "My lord, it couldn't have been Merlin's fault. I'm rather surprised you didn't hear, especially since it's been all over the castle by now."

"Hear what, Morgana?"

"How Arthur beat and raped Merlin last night, then threw him out into the hall this morning with a broken skull and a dislocated shoulder, half-conscious and unable to move."

Uther frowned, his eyes immediately swinging from his ward to his son.

"Is this true, Arthur?"

"I did _not_ rape him!"

"Alright, you didn't rape him. How about the rest of Morgana's story? Did you break his skull, beat him, tear his arm out of joint and then dump him in the hallway?"

"That's not the way it happened, Morgana keeps twisting it into the worst possible light."

"I did not, you told me so yourself and your pillows were covered in the boy's blood!"

"I told you I _did not rape him!_ " Arthur rose from his chair and pounded a fist on the table as he practically shouted the words at her.

"It's true My Lord, he did _say_ he didn't rape the child. He did admit to breaking his skull then fucking a willing if semi-conscious boy. Then upon waking and finding Merlin still there, he yanked him out of bed hard enough to rip the boy's arm from the joint. If that weren't enough , he proceeded to drag him to the door and threaten his manservant to tell no one what he'd done to him. _That's_ when he dumped him in the corridor for the castle staff to clean up. I suppose he figured the scullery maids would just tidy him off the floor like they do everything else he throws away."

Even Uther was looking appalled at this description of events.

"Arthur? Did you do this?"

"It wasn't intentional, Father. I didn't know Merlin was so badly hurt."

"You're not denying you did this?"

Arthur couldn't meet his father's eyes when he answered, "I hurt him but I never meant to, I swear I didn't."

Morgana couldn't leave it alone though. "My Lord, you've only to go into Arthur's chambers and see the blood yourself or call for Gaius to confirm what I've told you."

Uther was shocked but in a slight quandary. He wouldn't normally stoop to bothering himself over a servant but on the other hand he didn't condone raping or beating the servants half to death either. Then there was the fact that knew this particular boy was Gaius's ward. He owed it to his old friend to at least look into Morgana's accusations.

He saw his own ward glaring menacingly at Arthur. He'd already noticed the bruising on his son's face but had assumed it came from some training accident. It wasn't unusual for Arthur to appear at supper sporting bruises and other minor injuries. However, from the way Morgana was staring holes into the unusually subdued prince, he wondered.

"While you're at it, My Lord, you might want to question some of the guards who were on duty at the feast last night. It seems your son stabbed one of the guests before having the guards throw him out."

"That son-of-a-bitch was openly trying to molest Merlin in the great hall! He deserved far worse than what I gave him. And how the hell do you know these things, Morgana? Do you have spies situated all over the castle or something?"

"Yes, they're called servants. You can learn an awful lot if you actually talk to them instead of beating and torturing them!"

"Damn it Morgana, you're taking this too far now!" Arthur practically shouted at her.

"Silence, both of you! Whatever happened or did not happen last night, it can be discussed at some venue other than supper. Let us finish our meals at the least."

Her piece said, Morgana tucked into her plate but both she and Uther noted that Arthur made only a pretense of eating, Pushing his food around the dish and occasionally lifting the smallest bits of meat to his mouth before putting his knife back down. It only made him look guiltier to both of them.

The truth was that Arthur _was_ feeling guilty. A guilt so deep and terrible that the thought of food nauseated him. The guilt ate into his brain until all he could think about was Merlin. His cries of pain as he was dragged by a dislocated arm across the length of Arthur's large room, how he'd only nodded at first when threatened to silence and how he'd screamed his assent when Arthur shook him by that same arm. He flushed with shame when he remembered calling Merlin a girl when he'd first cried out his pain. Arthur had seen battle-hardened warriors screaming like small children upon receiving such injuries. _Please, Merlin. Please wake up!_ The phrase kept reverberating in his mind.

Following supper, Uther dismissed both his ward and his son and summoned a footman. Sending the man off to collect Arthur's bed linens and bring them to him, he himself stood and headed off to pay the Royal Court Physician a visit. He wanted to see for himself what had transpired and how badly injured this boy was. Morgana did have a tendency toward the dramatic. It was entirely possible she had exaggerated the extent of the damage done to the lad. He'd investigate the alleged attack on the unnamed guest of the feast tomorrow. There was already enough to be going on with for one evening.


	5. Truth and Consequences

Not surprisingly, Arthur found himself unable to sleep that night. His guilt over the morning's events was still gnawing at his guts. However, worse than the guilt was the fear, fear Merlin might never recover from the injuries he'd inflicted on him. He knew he wouldn't want to live if Merlin died. He thought of what his life had been like before the ebony haired boy had come into his world. How alone he'd felt. How empty. His life stretched out before him, never more than a burden, a chore. Duty to his father and his Kingdom was all consuming, a trap designed to hold him forever. His only desire then had been to please Uther and perhaps, just perhaps someday win his approval, earn a little paternal love. Uther always told Arthur, "Make me proud." He'd never let the Prince know if he'd ever succeeded or not.

When had pleasing his father begun to be replaced with the need to keep Merlin's good opinion instead? He knew it had happened gradually, as gradually as their friendship had developed. What hadn't been gradual was the physical desire to have the tall, lissome boy in his bed. However, never having seen any real signs of mutual desire in Merlin's candid, cornflower blue eyes, he'd kept his hands to himself...until jealousy and rage fueled by alcohol had driven him to act the night before. Then, much to his delight, it seemed Merlin _did_ harbour at least some of the same feelings for Arthur that he held for the sable haired boy. That boy who'd somehow managed to transform his outlook on life in just a few short months.

Arthur had been aware for quite some time now that Merlin was special, at least special to him. He was the first person in his life to treat Arthur as an equal, as a person instead of a prince. His father treated him as a subordinate he was training to take over his job and the rest of the world treated him as a "Royal". There was always diffidence if not outright toadying. Sometimes there was fear, sometimes awe. There was caution and even a few indications of veiled contempt from visiting royalty. However among that entire host, there had never been anyone who completely _disregarded_ his station in life the way Merlin did. On occasion, Merlin openly _mocked_ his title. It wasn't that the boy didn't do his job, he did. He worked for him but he always refused to cow-tow to him. He'd learned to better keep his mouth shut in public but in private, he teased, taunted and never missed an opportunity to puncture and deflate Arthur's ego when it threatened to get too big.

He snorted at the thought. _Too big? It's already too big, it always has been_. Suddenly he was arrested by the memory of Merlin in his too-short bed, ashen pale, black circles under his eyes, arm strapped down across a chest that seemed to barely rise and fall at all. Unconscious, unwaking, just lying there unresponsive. Another flash of memory, Merlin in Arthur's bed, smiling up at him, trustingly, almost lovingly. Then Merlin was in his arms, he could taste him on his tongue again, the most wonderful thing he'd ever held in his hands. The vision turned, Merlin pulled up tight to his face, shaking in his grip, screaming his assent as he was threatened. He could remember the exact moment he'd let go of the boy, tipping him out the door. He could remember how empty his hand had felt when Merlin's warm flesh was gone from it. He could recall all of it, all too clearly now, even though panic had distorted his thinking at the time. He hadn't really been aware of what he was doing then but his mind had apparently recorded every second of it to torment him with later.

The Prince lay in his bed, unable to find any respite from his memories, until the watery light of dawn began to cast pale fingers of light across the sheets. He got up and stood next to the open window gazing sightlessly across the courtyard and up toward the battlements. He hated feeling helpless. There was no monster to fight here, no army to oppose, no opponent to plot against. He was the only monster here. The opponent was death and the prize was Merlin's life. However, there was no quest to undertake, no action to be _taken_. He was powerless. Merlin would live or he would die and there was nothing Arthur could do to hasten the first nor avert the latter.

Time froze in it's stream as he stood before the open window. He didn't notice the light grow golden and bright nor did he notice the courtyard begin to come to life as palace servants and visitors bent on errands began to crisscross the cobbles below. He was startled from his revery by a heavy knock on the door. He absently tracked across his chamber, heedless of his shirtless state to answer the summons.

"Prince Arthur, your father commands that you attend him in his chambers within the hour."

The messenger was a young page with a mop of dark hair and pale blue eyes. Neither his hair nor his eyes were as dark as Merlin's but his skin was as pale and he was nearly as tall and thin as Arthur's injured manservant. The resemblance was enough to make the Prince wince away for a moment before nodding an acknowledgment of his father's subpoena.

He ordered the page to have wash water brought to his chambers before turning back to rustle up some suitable clothing for his meeting. There would be no cheerfully smiling manservant to do it for him this morning. Merlin was lying broken in his own bed within the Royal Physician's chambers. Arthur's jaw clenched tightly at the thought.

 _At least someone had the sensitivity to change the sheets,_ he thought as he laid out fresh breeches and a tunic on the rumpled surface of his bed. _Morgana_ _must have made the request_. God knows he hadn't been thinking clearly enough yesterday to order it for himself. He was grateful for knew he would have been unable to lie on bedlinen soaked in Merlin's blood.

Half an hour later he stood outside his father's door awaiting an answer to his knock. His father's manservant Willhem answered the door and upon seeing the Prince, he stood back and held wide the portal.

"His majesty awaits you in his study."

The usual smile for him from the aging retainer was missing. The man must be aware of the rumors. He'd noted that the few servants he did encounter passed with averted eyes and hurried their footsteps in any direction that would remove them from his vicinity with unusual alacrity. The guards outside both his own and his fathers chambers stared stonily _through_ him as if he did not exist at all. Merlin's popularity with the castle staff had never been more apparent.

He was brought up short when he entered his father's study. The bloodied bedlinen he'd just been thinking about was draped over a chair next to his fathers desk and his father was indicating he take the chair next to it with a silent gesture.

"Arthur, I went to visit Gaius last evening following supper. After that, I interviewed a few of the guards who'd been on duty during the feast. I have also interviewed your chamber guards, 2 footmen and Morgana's maid. They all have accounts of your manservant's injuries that are remarkably consistent with the accusations Morgana made over supper. Also, I've been made aware of the the injuries done to one of the guests of the feast."

Uther looked at his son, glacial gray eyes piercing a guilty ultramarine gaze.

"I'd like to hear your account of how both of these men came to be so injured."

The Crown Prince felt himself flushing in shame as thought about Merlin, though he still felt justified for _warning off_ the young man at the feast. Since he felt those actions to be justified he began with them.

"The young man at the feast had openly assaulted my servant during the festivities the other night. I simply made sure he got the message that he was to keep his hands off Royal property, lest he make free with other things that didn't belong to him."

Uther raised an eyebrow at his wording. "You delivered this message by driving a dagger _through_ the young man? Arthur, that was altogether too extreme. I rather think a word of warning to the young man before having him escorted from the palace would have sufficed. I do not ever wish to hear of any such an action on your part again. It is not how a Prince comports himself. Now, tell me how your own servant came to be outside your chamber door in a semi-conscious state with a fractured skull and a dislocated shoulder. Gaius assured me his injuries were quite severe or you know I wouldn't bother myself over a mere serving boy."

Arthur flinched at his father's dismissal of Merlin as a _mere serving boy._ He drew a deep breath and tried to stop the trembling he felt welling up from his core. He didn't dare let his father see how affected he was by all of this. Holding himself rigid he began to explain.

"It was my fault he was found like that but I swear to you father, I didn't know he was injured that badly until yesterday afternoon when Morgana informed me."

Uther raised an eyebrow at this but merely nodded for Arthur to continue. Taking his courage in his hands Arthur explained everything that happened from the time he and Merlin had reached his room the night of the feast right up until Morgana met him in his rooms the previous afternoon.

The King shook his head with a barely suppressed smirk when Arthur described Morgana's "greeting".

"I was wondering about the bruising on your face. It doesn't help support your claims that the boy was willing. You look like he fought back. But I know my Morgana."

He chuckled a little at that before becoming serious again.

"I also know _you_ Arthur and I believe what you are telling me is true. That being said, you did attack a freeman of Camelot while he was a guest under my roof and however unintentionally, caused your own servant grave bodily harm. If the boy dies there will be an outcry from the peasantry. I'm sorry but you are going to have to undergo punishment for these...unfortunate incidences."

Golden head nodding, Arthur accepted this, almost welcomed it. It was no less than he deserved and knowing his father, it wouldn't be harsh enough a punishment to fit the crime. After all, neither victim was of noble blood. He wasn't wrong.

"You'll spend a month in the dungeon. If the boy dies, you'll probably have to spend a few more weeks there to pacify the people. If he recovers then there will be no further repercussions."

"And if he does neither?"

"As long as the boy doesn't die from his injuries, the month will suffice."

The guard was called for and they escorted the Prince away to begin his confinement. Arthur went without a word of protest.

* * *

For the next week, Merlin balanced on the edge of death. His erratic heart rate slowed to almost nothing , his breathing was alarmingly shallow and his color remained ashen. Between Gaius and Gwen he was never left alone, the two taking it in turn to watch over him day and night. Morgana visited often and made do with little help from Gwen. More than willing to let her maid act as Gaius's assistant, she too was worried about the sweet natured boy who managed to charm almost everyone he met.

Eight days following Arthur's imprisonment, Merlin took a small turn for the better. His breathing deepened and his heart began to beat in a strong, regular pattern. However, he remained unconscious and completely unresponsive to any stimuli. Regardless, it was a balm to the hearts of those caring for him. The following day Merlin's color began to improve, warming from a blue-tinged ash to a waxen pallor. Each small improvement fueled increasing hope. But still, he would not wake.

None of them gave Arthur and his imprisonment much thought. When they'd found out, each had been somewhat surprised by Uther's actions but only because Merlin was a servant. In the past, the King had provided ample evidence of his lack of concern for the servitors of the castle. So for him, throwing Arthur in the dungeon for a month was harsh punishment indeed. After the initial news, they turned their attention back to Merlin and if Arthur crossed their minds it was only in disgust for what he had done.

The guards who stood watch over the Prince's cell remained obstinately silent no matter how often the Crown Prince requested news of the outside world in general and Merlin in specific. The kitchen girl who brought his meals dropped the food on a small table (a concession to his station) and skittered off as though chased by dogs. Clearly, there was no questioning her. He'd had no visitors, at least none that were admitted.

He sat listlessly in the corner of the cell and dozed on and off. Sometimes he dreamed. Some of those dreams were beautiful, Merlin was alive, well, hale and hearty and in every one of them he returned Arthur's love completely. Then there were the nightmares. Merlin dead, bludgeoned to death by Arthur in a rage, laying broken and bleeding in his arms as he wept over his body. Merlin laying asleep in his bed as he slowly wasted away and died, never opening those beautiful ocean blue eyes again, never waking, Arthur ejected from the room by Gaius, not even allowed to say good bye to his friend and beloved. In some of his dreams, Merlin woke but his wits had gone and he just stared blankly ahead of him, seeing and understanding nothing. Then in a scene almost as chilling had Merlin awake and healed but hating him forever for what he'd done, leaving his service, leaving Camelot altogether just so he'd never have to look at Arthur again.

He usually woke with tears tracking his face. They were hastily wiped away for fear of them being noticed by the guards. The last thing he needed now was for word to leak out to the kingdom of what a sniveling weakling he was.

 _As opposed to a brutal rapist? Oh yes, wouldn't want anyone to get a bad impression of me, now would I?_

His waking hours were no improvement over his fitful dreams. With nothing to occupy his time, there was nothing to distract him from thoughts of Merlin. Was he even still alive? Was he awake yet? Would he ever recover fully even if he did wake up? Would he ever be able to forgive Arthur? He knew there was no hope, if ever there had been, that his friend would return his love now. The best he could hope for was forgiveness or at least a chance to redeem himself in the eyes of the only person in the world who mattered to him any more.

Time passed slowly, oh so slowly, with no word from the world above.

* * *

Fifteen days after the attack, Merlin remained unconscious. Dreamless and unmoving, he lay under worn woolen blankets while Gwen, Gaius and even Morgana trickled water, broth and juices into his mouth, carefully squeezed from a clean linen cloth in a vain attempt to keep the boy fed and hydrated. Gaius had seen this before. The slow wasting away of a patient who could not eat because they could not wake. It could take weeks and weeks for the victim to die this way as long as someone continued to supply them with fluids. He didn't think Merlin had that long.

The boy had never had anything on reserve in his wiry body before this had happened. Always thin, he was quickly becoming emaciated as his body cannibalized itself to preserve his precious internal organs. Gaius ordered the girls to abandon the water and broth as there was too little nutritive value in the liquids. Instead he had them concentrate on dribbling the sweetest fruit juices he could obtain down Merlin's throat in an effort to pour as much energy as possible into the dying warlock. The physician thanked the heavens for the small favor that this "accident" had happened in summer when fresh juice was available. Otherwise he'd have been forced to turn to mead and ale to do the job and alcohol was never ideal to use on a patient with a head-wound.

Morgana had been instrumental in obtaining a ready supply of the needed nectars. As the King's ward she could command any food or drink that could be obtained by the royal household. So the three of them continued to take it in turn to care for the boy, desperately trying to preserve his life long enough for him to wake from his unconscious state.

Another six days passed before Merlin finally began to stir. Gwen was in the chair beside his bed, her body folded in half, head resting on the pallet next to Merlin's uninjured side when she felt him twitch. She sat up quickly and scanned his form under the blanket, searching for any movement to confirm what she thought she'd felt from him. Several long minutes passed before she saw his hand twitch again.

"Gaius!" She cried out for the old man. "Gaius, he moved, Gaius, I saw him move!"

He burst into the room and stared at the boy in the too-small bed. Long minutes passed before he observed Merlin's left foot and hand move, one right after the other. He drew in a deep breath and scanned the young mage's face for any signs of life there. He spotted movement beneath the eyelids and let out his breath in a loud whoosh.

"Oh, oh that's the best thing I've seen in weeks!"

"Will he wake up soon, Gaius?"

The old physician looked into the lovely girl's liquid brown eyes and saw hope desperately shining there.

"There's no way to know for sure but these are good signs."

He bustled over to the bed and leaned over Merlin to gently lift an eyelid. The constricted pupil dilated as sunlight struck it and the old man sighed in satisfaction as he stood again.

"Yes, good signs indeed. We must continue to hope and pray he will soon wake."

Gwen smiled at him before reaching for a bowl of grape juice to feed Merlin from. Gently parting his lips, she began to speak to him softly.

"Come on now, Merlin. Come back to us. We need you, we miss you. Open your eyes for me, please."

Gaius withdrew to begin his morning duties, leaving the sweet girl to croon over his boy. She left an hour later to attend to Morgana but before she went she informed him that Merlin's eyes, though still closed, were moving more, his hand and feet continued to twitch and his lips had begun to show small signs of movement as well.

Late that afternoon, while Morgana sat by his side and Gwen napped in Gaius's bed, Merlin opened his eyes for the first time in twenty one days. The King's ward watched, barely daring to hope as inky lashes quivered on moon-pale cheeks and slowly lifted to reveal his unfocused sapphire gaze. She held her breath as his eyelids fluttered a few times before remaining open.

"Merlin?"

She spoke his name softly for fear of startling him.

Lips, normally rosy but still pale as the skin surrounding them moved uncertainly. His voice, rusty with misuse warbled,

"Morgana?"

Suddenly silver tears were trickling from radiant jade-green eyes.

"Oh, Merlin! Oh thank God!"

She lifted his hand and held it to her cheek.

"Oh Merlin, we've been so worried for you! We thought you'd never come back to us. I was so scared I'd never see you open your eyes again."

"What happened?"

"You don't remember anything?"

Those hateful eyelids slipped shut once again as the sorcerer tried to remember how he could have come to be in his bed with Morgana hovering over him.

"No, I...the last thing I remember was the feast...was it last night?"

"Oh Merlin, that was weeks ago! You've been so sick."

"Weeks?"

He looked down at himself and noticed his right arm bound across his chest. He hadn't even realized yet that he couldn't move it. Morgana was still holding his hand and he noticed that his arm looked funny, bony, bonier than usual anyway. His mouth felt sticky and foul and his head thumped dully. He tried to shift his feet and found they weighed a ton. He looked back at Morgana who was watching him very carefully.

"What happened to me? My arm...what, did I fall and hit my head or something?"

Morgana's eyes shifted slightly and she hesitated a second too long before answering him.

"Something like that. Your skull was cracked and your shoulder dislocated."

"That must have been one hell of a fall! What, did I pitch down the grand staircase or what? Oh God, did a lot of people see it?"

"No, no, no one really saw what happened."

She'd almost added, _just Arthur_. However she was afraid mention of the Prince's name might trigger Merlin's memory and she really didn't want him to remember his ordeal until Gaius was back.

"Two footmen brought you back here. It's been...that was three weeks ago."

Merlin's eyes widened at the news.

"I've been asleep for _three weeks_? No wonder I look so...bony." He looked up into her soft green gaze again. "You've been taking care of me?"

"Gwen and Gaius have been doing most of the work. I've just been sitting with you in the afternoons so Gwen can get some rest. She's just outside, napping now. I'd wake her but she hasn't been sleeping long."

"No! No, let her sleep. She does too much as it is."

Morgana nodded in agreement though she knew Gwen would gladly forgo sleep to know that Merlin was finally awake. Awake and apparently with his wits still intact from what Morgana was able to detect. She was frankly relieved that he seemed unable to recall the events surrounding his injuries but did remember his history prior to that night.

"Thank you Morgana. It was nice of you to sit with me."

He smiled at her and Morgana's heart lifted as the corners of her lips did the same. She'd so feared she'd never see that sweet smile of his again, even if did wake up. After what Arthur had done to him, she wasn't sure he'd be capable of being the blithe and bonny boy she'd grown to love almost as much as she loved Gwen. She didn't care that they were servants, they were her dearest friends.

They both heard the outer door to the Royal Physicians chambers open and close softly. Morgana smiled in relief.

"Gaius is going to be overjoyed, " she whispered. "I think he's aged 30 years in the last few weeks."

Merlin winced at having caused his beloved mentor such pain and worry. They listened as the old man quietly shifted about in the other room, carefully doing his best not to wake Gwen. After just a few minutes, they heard him climb the few steps to Merlin's room before he pushed the wooden barrier aside to peer inside with hopeful curiosity.

"Gaius!"

"Merlin! Oh my boy! Oh thank God, you're awake!"

In his excitement, Gaius's forgot to keep his voice down and the three of them heard Gwen's soft voice call out, "Merlin? Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me, Gwen."

She was in the room in seconds, swiftly brushing past a beaming Gaius. Morgana quickly shuffled aside to let the dark-skinned girl reach Merlin. She threw herself down on the floor beside his bed and flung her arms gently around his waist. Laying her head on his chest, she squeezed him in the best approximation of a bear-hug she could manage whilst he remained supine. He brought his free arm down to pull her up in a closer hug.

"I'm sorry I worried you so much," he paused and looked at both Gaius and Morgana as well. "All of you."

"Oh forget about that, we are just so happy to have you back!"

Gwen leaned in and gave him a quick but heartfelt kiss on the lips and the feel of her mouth on his brought on a dizzying flash of memory. A quick blur of golden hair, cerulean eyes and full, dry lips pressed fervently against his own. Gwen had already pulled back, a faint blush on her dusky cheeks before he shook his head slightly at the strange vision he'd just had. He smiled shakily at her.

"Thanks."

Gwen just smiled in response. Then Gaius was there, all bustling professionalism as he examined Merlin's eyes and his head, asking questions and poking him in various places to check that the rest of his body was unaffected by his head-injury.

Merlin asked again, "So what happened? Morgana said I cracked my skull and dislocated my shoulder but didn't get a chance to tell me what actually happened."

Everyone in the room seemed to freeze at the question and he remembered Morgana's hesitation from minutes before when he asked the same question.

"What do you remember?" That was Gaius, of course.

"I remember the feast for Arthur's "Coming of Age" and then..."

Now it was Merlin's turn to freeze as images began to fill his mind. Arthur dragging off that creepy boy who'd tried to...then Arthur yelling at him in his own chambers. Then...no, that couldn't have really happened. That had to be a fever dream or some nightmare he'd conjured while unconscious. There was no way that he and Arthur had made such mad passionate love (complete with post-coital cuddling) and then suffered such a horrible morning-after. It was the worst sort of nightmare. There was no way that Arthur could have been such a giving, tender lover before turning on him, hurting him, threatening him and then throwing him away.

He convinced himself that had been a nightmare and he believed it for a few precious seconds. However, when he looked up into the deeply pained eyes of Gaius, when he saw Gwen's dark eyes leaking tears and observed the rage in Morgana's green gaze he realized that each was silently confirming his memories in their own way.

Merlin's eyes screwed shut and though he had hardly moved since awakening, he still managed to crumple further into the bed. It wasn't a nightmare, it had _all_ happened. Every horrible, filthy, humiliating, bit of it was real. Arthur had _used_ him and then thrown him away like refuse. He didn't care that Arthur had physically hurt him, it was the callous way that the Prince had fucked and then discarded him that was burning a hole in his chest. It was the raging contempt with which he'd treated Merlin that was forcing scalding tears hard up against his tightly closed eyelids, battering against the thin flesh, demanding to be set free to scorch down his face.

"Oh God!" his voice was barely audible but to the three people listening so intently, focused solely on the broken boy in the bed, those two words echoed as loudly as a shout in the empty Great Hall.

"Oh God, Arthur..."


	6. Self Defense

It didn't help that Uther had thrown Arthur in the dungeon. If anything, as far as Merlin was concerned, it made things worse. It ensured that the _entire_ Kingdom heard the whole sordid tale. It certainly didn't change anything that had happened. However, it _did_ guarantee that Merlin would be unable to hide his misery and shame in private, away from the well-meant pity that was being heaped on him from all comers. In the last few days there had been a steady parade of servants (as well as a few of Arthur's knights and no few of the castle guards) who'd "stopped by" to wish Merlin well. While it was nice on one hand that so many of the castle's denizens had been concerned for him, it was also awkward as hell. It brought home to him that his degradation was now a spectacularly public affair. That it seemed everyone who spoke with him had sympathized with _his_ side of things made little difference to his sense of humiliation.

He'd been appalled when Morgana had _assured_ him that Arthur had been locked up for his "crimes". The older girl was still convinced that Arthur had raped Merlin in addition to nearly beating him to death.

"Morgana, I can't say I'm happy with him right now but he didn't mean to crack my skull. _That_ was an accident."

"And the rest of it?" she'd arched on dark eyebrow at him in disbelief. "Him nearly ripping your arm off and tipping you into the hall for someone else to take care of, was that an accident?"

She still couldn't bear to mention Arthur's violation of Merlin and she seriously doubted he'd want to openly discuss it either. However, she would not let Merlin's soft heart allow him to make excuses for the Prince.

Deep blue eyes cast down, Merlin swallowed hard before replying.

"No. I...no, that, that was not an accident."

"He nearly _killed you_ , Merlin. After bashing your head in by "accident" he sure as hell didn't get you any help. If Gaius had gotten to you sooner, you might not have gotten so sick. You can't imagine what it's been like for him and Gwen, sitting here by your bed, day and night just trying to keep you alive."

She didn't mention her own deep terror at the thought of losing him. She was less emotionally stunted than her foster-brother but she still had difficulty not pretending that she was always alright. She also hadn't spent as much time as the other two nursing Merlin. Morgana had wanted to but she knew Uther would never have stood for it. Both Gaius and Gwen would have gotten in trouble for allowing it had she tried. So she'd spent her untracked afternoons with him and that had had to suffice for the ease of her heart.

Merlin had heaved a small, helpless sigh at the thought of his guardian and his best friend worrying themselves half-to-death over him. It wasn't his fault but he still felt guilty for the weeks of stress and sleeplessness they'd all endured on his behalf.

"If for nothing else he deserves this time of imprisonment for hurting you so badly and for putting them through this ordeal. Not one of you deserved anything like! You've always been far too good to him. He doesn't deserve you."

Unable to argue that point, he'd just let it go. It wasn't worth arguing with Morgana. She was still outraged that he intended to go right back to work for Arthur as soon as he was healed up enough. She'd lectured him for nigh on half an hour when he'd told her that. She'd been in the midst of explaining her plan to obtain him post-convalescent employment when he'd interrupted her and said that he already had two jobs to return to and he didn't need another.

"You can't be serious!" she'd exclaimed. "After what he did to you, I'm surprised you can stand to live in the same keep he does, let alone work for him day in and day out!"

He'd tightened his jaw at the reminder of Arthur's cruelty.

"He's not going to be repeating his actions so I don't see why I shouldn't."

"How do you know that? What happens the next time he gets drunk and possessive?"

"I hardly think he's possessive of me, Morgana. Look, I really don't want to talk about Arthur right now, please?"

She'd relented for a while but of course it had come back up again when she'd made an offhand comment about Arthur being "released in another five days". That's when she'd told him of the King's punishment for the Prince's actions during and after the feast. It was the first he'd heard of what Arthur had done to that boy who'd tried to molest him after Gwen and Morgana had retired that night. He wasn't overly concerned with the creepy man's treatment at Arthur's hands but he had been surprised by it. Bewildered actually. Despite what had happened between them, it just didn't sound like Arthur to Merlin.

"You don't think he could have been enchanted somehow, do you?" He'd been musing aloud more than truly convinced of his theory. After all, when would someone have had the opportunity to curse Arthur without Merlin noticing something out of the ordinary?

Morgana snorted. "Hardly. He was behaving like he always did as a child. He's always been a spoiled bully."

Privately Merlin agreed but they'd both dropped the subject as Gwen entered carrying an enormous tray, piled high with enough food to feed six or seven let alone the four of them that would be dining at Gaius's tiny table that evening. They were celebrating Merlin's first sanctioned trip out of bed since waking. Gwen was unaware of what had happened with the weird boy at the Feast and she was distressed enough as it was over what Arthur had done to Merlin. Both he and Morgana had no wish to burden her further.

Gaius joined them shortly after that and Morgana had let the whole subject of Arthur drop for the rest of the night. However, her shrewd eyes didn't miss a single moment of Merlin's ill-concealed pain and misery. She couldn't help but hate Arthur all the more by the time she and Gwen departed for the night.

____________________________________________________________________

Since waking from his coma, Merlin had been unable to sleep well. He spent most of his time awake and hurting. What little sleep he did get usually ended prematurely by means of screaming nightmares that Gaius dared not dose Merlin for. Not so soon after recovering from such a long period of deep unconsciousness. The elderly physician was terrified that a sleeping draught might put Merlin right back into that state. And so he would wake at least once each night to his ward's night terrors. The sound of Merlin's screams broke the old man's heart again and again.

However, that night, once Morgana and Gwen had left and Gaius had guided him back to his bed, Merlin lay awake, unable to sleep at all. Arthur plagued his every thought. The memory of concerned azure eyes softly lit by moonlight would alternate with the crazed sky blue glare of the following morning. He could hear Arthur gasping his name in pleasure then suddenly he was snarling it, his name a curse on the Prince's tongue, the same voice, so gentle and loving in the dark was dripping with contempt in the day. _You're such a fucking girl, Merlin!_ Gentle hands stroked him to pleasures before unknown then turned violent, hurting him, searing hot agony exploding everywhere.

He shuddered deeply. His body hurt so badly but really, it was nothing compared to the emotional torment. He still loved the lout and the pain in his heart after Arthur's betrayal couldn't be borne. He couldn't go back to serving him, seeing him every day as if nothing had happened. Though he knew it _hadn't_ happened as far as the Prince was concerned, he could never banish it from his mind as easily as the prat had done. His sensibilities were far more battered than his aching body, the soul-pain a deeper agony, the damage farther-reaching. His heart couldn't stop bleeding, his clotting factor was gone; he'd become an emotional hemophiliac. There was no way he could endure what he knew he must suffer in order to fulfill his destiny.

Mind ticking over his options, he tried to find an answer to his dilemma. He thought of leaving but knew he'd never be able to get more than a few leagues down the road before the tug of fate would inexorably pull him back. Even if his own love didn't tie him to Arthur, his _duty_ to the Prince, to the people of Camelot, to the future of magic in the land bound him so tightly there was no escape.

So he'd have to stay, there was no fighting that. There must be a way to shield his heart from further damage. He knew he'd never survive the ravaging of his trust like that even once more. However, Arthur would slash at it again sometime, he knew that deep in his bones. The arse had proven just how little he valued Merlin that awful night. There was no way he'd not hurt Merlin again, his selfish nature made it inevitable. So the sorcerer had to figure out a way of making himself impervious to the abuse his beloved was bound to heap on his head in days to come.

No doubt he'd want to punish Merlin for the secret getting out, for having to endure imprisonment at his own father's hands because of his useless manservant. He might not physically harm him but he'd be vicious with his words, he was good at that. He'd lash out again and again until there was nothing left of Merlin but a quivering, bleeding mass of shattered pieces. His soul would splinter, there was no way he could endure that now. What defenses he'd had before were gone, torn down, rendered useless by the Prince's brutal rape of his heart.

Protection, that's what he needed. There was only one thing that could shelter him from _that which made him whole_ , magic. It was his only recourse. But how to employ it? How to make it defend him without harming Arthur? He began to let his mind wander, he allowed his magic to flow freely within him. He closed his eyes as he felt them heat with the power swirling, unformed, inside his body. He meshed his mind with the magic. He opened himself to possibilities; he directed his thoughts toward finding the form he needed, the spell to bind the power into a flexible barrier. One that was porous in places, the perforations that would allow him to still protect and serve his Prince must be easily accessed. However, the shield needed to be impervious in other areas, those that surrounded his heart, his soul, his fragile emotions. The defenses must be keyed into Arthur alone. It would not do to close himself off from his other loved ones, Hunith, Gaius, Gwen, Morgana and Lancelot. Neither he nor they deserved that. He also didn't want to close his heart to the possibility of new friends, companions and acquaintances. He had no desire to make himself an emotional void. He just needed to shut out Arthur.

It took him three days to find the form of the spell. Seventy two hours to track down the triggers that only Arthur could trip and understand how to separate them from the rest, the smaller trip wires that connected him to the other people in his life. Three suns rose and set before he isolated the vital memories that needed to be sealed away or edited. Many of his recollections had to be altered as they included other people and other information he must retain. He took his time. This had to be perfect. One mistake and he could erase parts of his anamnesis that he could not afford to lose or he could fail to occlude a tiny incident that could rip the rabbit hole open and push him back inside. His survival, his destiny and the future of Albion depended on getting this right. So he took his time.

So lost in his own mind was he, that Gaius thought he'd fallen into coma once again. He ceased speaking, eating, drinking or even responding in any way to any stimuli outside the deep recesses of his very core. The old man despaired when he found Merlin laying still, so still in his bed. His color remained good, his breathing was deep and unlabored and his heart still beat steady and strong but once again his consciousness was gone. He clearly didn't sleep for the boy never lay so still in slumber. He was also extremely prone to muttering, snuffling and soft lip-smacking whilst resting in the arms of Morpheus. No such signs were displayed by the young warlock's body lying unmoving beneath the worn woolen bedding. The screaming stopped, of course, but that was hardly a comfort to the elderly physician.

Gaius spent as much time as he could with his ward. Dribbling water gently into his mouth and checking and rechecking for signs of fever or infection. All of Merlin's visible wounds continued to heal well, nothing festered on the _outside_. Gaius began to worry once again about the internal damage done to the boy by the Prince. He had of course observed the signs that the boy had been used sexually but there hadn't been any severe trauma to the area. At least none that the old physician had been able to detect. He'd done an internal exam of course and again, there hadn't seemed to be any truly worrying damage.

Perhaps he'd missed something. He'd believed Arthur hadn't raped Merlin, or at least, he hadn't _perceived_ himself to have done so. Was it possible that those tender words he'd overheard had been a performance for his sake? Had the Prince tortured Merlin in ways too terrible to contemplate? Had he caused damage deeper inside the boy than the physician was able to investigate? If so, why was it manifesting now? He must have let Merlin out of bed too soon. Something unhealed must have torn loose again.

In his extremely long career as a healer, Gaius had seen too many of the inhuman atrocities that one man could visit upon another. He'd never believed Arthur to be that kind of man but he also knew that it was impossible to ever truly know the depths of darkness that a man could hide away in his soul. He'd thought Merlin was healing well, he'd been lucid and clear-minded even if there was some amnesia following the Prince's assault upon him. However, now he'd slipped back into a coma and Gaius could find no reason for it. So he worried and wondered and imagined all manner of horrors that could have befallen his beloved ward at the hands of a man he'd trusted.

His relief and delight knew no bounds when Merlin unexpectedly appeared in the doorway to his room three days later. The shaky-legged boy gave him a small smile.

"How long was I out for this time?"

____________________________________________________________________

Arthur looked up as the door to his cell creaked open. His father stood in the narrow aperture. Had 4 weeks passed? It had felt like 4 years but in all honesty, Arthur had lost track of how many days had come and gone. Sometimes he'd been aware of sunlight changing angle and intensity but most of the time, he lay in the straw on the floor of his cell and thought of Merlin. Was he even alive? Had he woken from his coma? Would he hate Arthur forever? Would he leave him?

There was nothing to break up his time, nothing to mark it's passing but the changing shadows from the single window far above his head. No one visited. The guards continued to ignore him. The kitchen girl still dropped and ran. After the first few days he had stopped paying any attention to her comings and goings. He didn't often bother to eat the meals she brought. Only when his hunger became painful did he bother to appease it. He lost weight and strength but was unaware of it as he didn't bother to move much. Once, maybe twice a day he'd visit the bucket in the corner to empty his bladder. His bowels functioned far more sluggishly as he barely fueled them. He was not aware that he touched only one out of three meals each day and never could he finish a single one of them. He would keep the cup close though, taking an occasional sip to wet his tongue when it stuck to the roof of his mouth.

And still he thought of Merlin. He allowed himself the luxury of happy revery. He lost himself in the memory of his bright, beautiful smile, the way he lit up any room he entered, the way small children were drawn to him, the way mothers always wanted to feed him, the way sunlight gleamed on his pale, perfect skin, the sound of his laughter, the curve of his over-large ears, the deep shimmering cobalt of his eyes and the strength in his slender, long-fingered hands. He shivered when he remembered how good those hands always felt on his own body, whether it was the dozens of times they'd dried the Prince after a bath or the one night of wonder when they'd stroked his bare skin in passion. He let himself recall those few precious hours he'd held Merlin in his arms before he'd torn down his own world and laid violent hands on his beloved.

Then the pain would come again, the self-loathing as he remembered Merlin's cries of agony as he'd dragged him to his chamber door, the way he'd screamed his agreement when Arthur had threatened him, the way he'd tremored in the Prince's punishing grip, the sight of him laying broken and still in his tiny bed tucked at the back of Gaius's infirmary. Inevitably his mind would then turn to all the times he'd ignored his servant when he should have heeded him, long after Merlin had proven he'd willingly lay his life down for his Prince. He remembered how he'd enjoyed piling punishing workloads on the boy's narrow shoulders and heaping derision on his sable wreathed head for any small failing. He'd taken any excuse to humiliate the boy, making him get down on hands and knees so Arthur could use him as a step to mount his horse while in full armour. He would writhe on the floor in remorseful shame as his own failings poured through his mind.

The cycle was endless. It played over and over in the Prince's captive mind with nothing to distract him from the litany of his own sins. The loop was infinite. Joy followed misery then flowed into pleasure which spiked into pain. There was no surcease from the torments he visited upon himself. Sleep was fleeting, dreams always became nightmares he woke from drenched in sweat and shaking in horror. Time crawled, it's pain-bloated belly dragging on the unyielding ground of his own conscience.

Now the King stood before him and he forced himself to remember how to move. His muscles slowly recalled how to bunch and slide and he managed to drag his back up the wall behind him until he was more-or-less sitting up. Blurry eyes sought out the figure swathed in deepest purple regally disposed in the doorway before him.

"Father?"

"Yes, son. Your sentence is up. It's time to come back."

A war broke out in Arthur's mind. Did he dare ask Uther? Did his father even know if Merlin lived? It wasn't like the man concerned himself with such matters but he had said before sending him down here that if Merlin died, he'd be imprisoned for more than the month initially assigned him. He had no idea how long he'd been here. He'd had no word from his father on whether or not his sentence had been extended. Had it been a month or had it been longer? He cared little for his detention, he was just terrified to ask if Merlin lived or not.

He forced himself to his feet, using the wall behind him for support once more.

"How...how long have I been down here?"

Uther looked surprised at the question, both eyebrows rising.

"You don't know? Really Arthur, I thought you had better discipline than to completely lose track of time! It's been a month, as I told you it would be."

Arthur allowed himself to slump against the wall for a moment.

"So, he lives?"

"The boy? I assume so or I gather Gaius would have informed me otherwise. Now come on."

The Prince followed his father on trembling legs. The King had made no effort to find out whether Merlin lived or died. Unlike Uther, Arthur did not assume that Gaius would have informed him if his ward had died. Considering the King's treatment of servants in general and Merlin in particular, Gaius could be forgiven for assuming that the elder Pendragon wouldn't care one way or another if his ward perished. He'd have been right in the assumption. Promising himself that he would find out on his own how Merlin fared, Arthur tamely followed his father's lead for the moment.


	7. An Intolerable Distance

"You smell like a pig, son. I've had a bath prepared for you."

"Yes Father, I am aware of that. There aren't exactly first class bathing accommodations in the dungeon."

"You'd have been brought water to wash in had you requested it."

"Really? From the guards' responses to my requests, I assumed I was denied everything but food and water."

"What do you mean? What responses? Are you saying you were abused during your confinement?"

Arthur could see the fury building in his father's eyes and hastened to divert it.

"No, no one abused me. They simply refused to speak...at all."

"Well, they aren't supposed to talk to prisoners, you know that, Arthur."

The Prince sighed. He knew. He also knew that if the guards themselves hadn't been so disgusted with the rumors of his behavior that at least one or two of them would have taken enough pity on him to answer a few questions.

"It didn't occur to me to ask for wash water, Father. I didn't receive any the last time you threw me in prison."

"The last time you were in prison it was only for a week."

"Yes, well, I'd better go avail myself of the bath you ordered. Thank you, Father."

"You're welcome. Oh and Arthur, I regret that I had to do this. You know I can't hold you above the law."

"It's alright Father. _This_ time I deserved it."

Uther looked at him strangely for a long, long moment. Then he simply nodded and strode past Arthur's chamber door, his legs carrying him down the hall to his own. Arthur sighed and pushed into his room. He wasn't expecting to find Merlin standing by the steaming hot bath...and he didn't. So why then did his heart clench so hard in disappointment?

It wasn't Merlin but there was a servant standing ready to attend him. The man bowed quickly and started to introduce himself. Arthur cut him off swiftly. He dismissed the curly-haired blond without hesitation. There was no bearing the attendance of anyone who wasn't Merlin. He didn't want anyone else near him. The prince would do without rather than replace him. Considering how he'd treated Merlin, Arthur was mildly surprised anyone had been _willing_ to serve him. Then again, no one would dare defy Uther over the appointment so he supposed willing wasn't a requirement for the job.

Stripping himself of his filthy clothes, he tossed them in a heap near the empty fireplace, intending to burn them to ashes later. He settled in the lukewarm water and missed Merlin even more. Somehow, that boy had _always_ managed to have a steaming hot bath ready for him whenever he requested. Useless as he always claimed Merlin was, bathwater seemed to be something his servant had excelled at. He smiled faintly at the recollection even as his stomach twisted with the need to see the blue-eyed boy again.

He scrubbed himself raw and left deep scratches on his skin when he wrapped the cloth around a dagger to scrub his back. He made a mental note to sort out something less pointy for his next bath and rose from the water before looking around for a towel. The idiot boy who'd been in earlier had left the blasted thing on the bed. He shook his head and splashed his way across the room to retrieve it, thinking as he tried not to slip on the polished floor, _Merlin always kept a towel over the edge of the screen._ Arthur simply _had_ to visit Gaius's chambers and soon.

Arthur dried and dressed himself quickly before running a comb carelessly through his damp hair. He didn't care at all what he looked like, he needed to see for himself if Merlin was still alive.

* * *

Merlin was bored. It'd been two days since he woke up from his second lapse into coma and Gaius was taking no chances. The mage had been ordered to stay in bed, no exceptions this time. The old man had looked so frail and worn after this last episode that Merlin didn't have the heart to defy him. So, although his head had stopped throbbing sometime during his last "deep sleep", as he liked to refer to it, he remained in bed doing absolutely nothing and letting the inactivity drive him insane. He had a job to do, didn't he? He remembered that he worked for the Crown Prince as his personal servant though he didn't really remember much of the particulars of his previous service. His memory seemed to be very spotty when it came to the Prince.

He remembered conversations about the man with the Great Dragon, who incidentally, hadn't seen the need to mind call him at all since he'd awoken. He didn't imagine the scaly know-it-all had been unaware of what was happening to him so he supposed the creature just had nothing new to impart to him about his "destiny". Merlin knew it was his duty to protect the young Pendragon so that when he became King he could restore magic to the land. He would free Merlin and his kind from this terrifying half-life they'd been living for the last two decades. The young warlock was also aware that he wasn't to discuss this destiny or his magic with the Prince. It didn't seem quite fair, at least the secret destiny bit. As he had no desire to shorten his lifespan, he did agree with the secret magic.

What he was struggling to remember was what Prince Arthur was _like._ He knew he'd been in his service for at least six months now but since the blow to his head, he couldn't really remember any specific details about the man's personality. He could remember what the man's favorite foods were, his favorite clothes, his favored weapons and armour. He knew just how the man liked his wardrobe laid out and to what degree his boots needed polishing. He even remembered exactly how hot the Prince liked his bathwater and which scented oils he liked added to the tub. However, he was frustrated in every effort to recall specific events involving the Prince. There was no knowledge of what this Prince was like as a man, as a leader of men or even, more worryingly, what he was like as an employer.

How could he remember exactly how much lavendar oil to add to the man's bath and forget what the man himself was like? He could distantly recall his appearance. He had a vague mental image of blond hair, blue eyes and a muscular build but again, nothing more specific. He'd be tempted to tear his hair out if Gaius hadn't sheared it all off while he'd slept. It was growing back in but he still felt self-conscious about how short it remained. His ears stuck out quite ludicrously without his usual coal-black mop to demphasize them. He felt along the back of his head and found the newly healed scar that still disrupted the otherwise smooth surface of his scalp and sighed. Gwen had told him she'd had to crop that patch of hair down to the skin so Gaius had just gone ahead and cut the rest of his hair to match. He'd caught a glimpse of himself in the shiny side of a metal cup and had grimaced at the sight that met his eyes. He'd avoided looking at shiny surfaces ever since.

At least his new hair style had the advantage of being easy to clean and maintain. A quick swipe of a soapy rag and it was clean, a quick swipe of a dry rag and it was styled. He laughed out loud at the thought and heard a gasp from the outer room of Gaius's suite. Finally, someone to distract him from his boredom!

"Hello! Gaius isn't here at the moment but I wouldn't mind some company if you want to wait for him!"

The door to his room had been deliberately left ajar and suddenly the opening was filled with a tall, broad shouldered man. Cerulean blue eyes were wide with shock and full lips gaped half-open. The man's dark golden hair flopped carelessly over his forehead, nearly covering those startling eyes. Merlin studied him for a moment comparing the vision before him with the fuzzy mental image he had of the Prince he served and decided they were close enough to take a chance.

"Prince Arthur?"

* * *

The blond royal had knocked softly on the outer door to Gaius's suite but received no response from within. He carefully pushed the door open and slipped inside. When he saw the door to Merlin's room was wide open his heart plummeted. In all the time he'd known Merlin to occupy that back room, the door was _never_ left open. He'd been slowly making his way to the empty door-frame with dull dread dragging at his feet. He could see the sun shining off the floor in the room beyond but he couldn't see the bed. He remembered the bed had been situated right in front of the door before and now it was nowhere to be seen. Did that mean Merlin was gone? There were no clothes or books visible either. Merlin had always been a bit of a slob within his own chamber. Now there was no sign of a mess. If his bed was gone and Merlin's mess was gone...

He stopped to catch his breath. He rubbed absently at the ache in his chest. He didn't think he could bear to look in that room and find it empty. If he looked and there was no trace of Merlin he knew he'd be unable to cope. He began to slowly back away from the ominously gaping doorway when he heard Merlin's familiar laugh ring out, shattering the silence.

Arthur gasped in shock. That was Merlin! But he was laughing, what on earth could he be laughing at in an empty room. Before he could wonder for too long, he heard that beloved voice calling out with a wistful kind of cheer, inviting whoever was lurking in the outer room to come and visit him. Would he be so blithe when he realized exactly who it was who'd come to see him?

It didn't matter, he _needed_ to see Merlin, regardless of his reception. He took the steps up to the small room quickly and paused under the lintel drinking in the sight of his manservant laying in the bed someone had pushed up against the wall beneath the window. He was propped up on several pillows, right arm in a sling and he was regarding the Prince with an expression of polite curiosity. It was a small shock to see Merlin's usual mop of thick black hair shorn clean off. When he'd last seen him there had been a bandage around his head but his hair still tufted out the top. The boy's wide cornflower-blue eyes were clear and untroubled and his soft sweet lips were curled at the edges in a friendly smile. There was no sign of recognition on his face whatsoever.

While Arthur watched in confusion, Merlin tilted his head slightly to one side and examined his face closely, as if he was looking for something there. Then in a tentative, questioning voice he said the Prince's name in an uncertain fashion, as if he was only guessing at who it was that stood before him. Arthur knew he was gaping like the country bumpkin he always called Merlin but he couldn't help himself. In all his imaginings, he hadn't thought to find his servant happily bolstered up in bed with apparently no recollection of _him_ at all.

In that moment, in that one confusing, unique and hopefully never to be repeated moment, Arthur, Crown Prince of Camelot didn't know whether to shit or go blind.

"I'm so sorry, I guess we _haven't_ met before. I thought you looked like the Prince. I know I'm his manservant but I got a bit of a knock to the head and now I can't quite recall the man. Forgive me my mistake. I'm Merlin by the way and you are?"

Arthur continued to gawk at Merlin in stupefied surprise and the boy began to fidget a bit under his incredulous stare.

"Alright. I guess you're looking for Gaius. I'm afraid I can't help you, I'm not allowed out of bed yet. The last time I got up for dinner I wound up back in the big black hole for three days and nearly gave the poor man a seizure of the heart. If you'd rather come back later, I believe he'll be back by noon."

Finally, the blond gave a shake of his head and found his voice again.

"No, you weren't wrong, I _am_ Arthur, I just can't believe you don't remember me."

At this Merlin blushed and looked a bit sheepish.

"I do apologize, my Lord. Ever since I woke up I've been trying and trying to remember you but, well, not too much has come back. I can remember the strangest details about you, like that your favorite breakfast is sausage and crackle-bread with grapes and cheese but I couldn't even quite recall what you looked like!"

He gave Arthur a shy smile that the Prince had never once seen directed at himself before and again, he didn't know how to react. Should he be happy that Merlin couldn't remember him and thus, clearly did not hate him? Or, rather, should he be devastated that all their history had been erased from his friend's mind? They had been through so much in such a short time but not all of it was good. Merlin had definitely come away from their first meeting with a bad impression of Arthur and while the Prince was being honest with himself, he had to accede that the impression hadn't been wrong. Was this a chance for a clean slate?

* * *

Weeks passed and it was clear that the slate had indeed been cleaned. So clean in fact nothing of their former relationship seemed to remain. Merlin was polite and though he wasn't exactly diffident, he certainly didn't argue the way he used to. There were none of the sotto voce asides he'd so frequently indulged in and Arthur had so frequently chosen to ignore. The witty repartee was absent and there was still no real recognition in those ocean blue eyes when they lighted on the Prince.

There were no more surreptitious glances while he bathed, no touches that lingered just a half-second too long and no ill concealed gazing from eyes filled with heated want. Merlin's breath didn't hitch when he caught Arthur staring at _him_ , in fact his increasingly pointed looks didn't seem to rouse his manservant's curiosity in the slightest.

In fact, nothing about the Prince got the slightest reaction from this boy who still wore his heart on his sleeve and his thoughts bare on his face for everyone but Arthur. The Prince couldn't help the slow burn of resentment in his chest when he realized that it wasn't the wide world Merlin had forgotten, it was clearly just him. Arthur knew in his heart that he had no right to feel any rancor over Merlin's amnesia. He should in fact be grateful that not only had the boy survived his ordeal but had come out the other side willing to be anywhere near him. However, the heart wants what it wants even when it hasn't any right to do so.

Strangely, the only remnant of their former relationship was Merlin's insistence on accompanying the Prince _everywhere_. He was so stubbornly _Merlin_ in those moments that Arthur often argued against his company just to see those flashes of his servant's former self. Eventually, he always conceded because there was nothing in the world he wanted more than Merlin's steady presence at his side. However, once he did it was back to the same strange distance. Merlin hadn't even been this disconnected when they'd first met.

Arthur thought back to the day he'd been released from the dungeon. The relief of knowing Merlin was alive had slowly but surely slid away leaving him hollow when it really settled in that Merlin didn't know him. The hollow feeling became a knife in his gut when Gaius explained that it seemed to be just him and the events of _that_ night that Merlin no longer remembered. The physician went on to detail for him in exacting terms just how close to death Merlin had come before he'd recovered. He spared the young Pendragon none of the particulars of the battle waged to preserve his ward after the brutal assault he'd suffered. The knife in his gut twisted into nausea and the Prince had paled, sweat gathering along his hairline and beading the edge of his lip.

After forcing Arthur to face up to the real consequences of his actions, Gaius explained to him that Merlin's memory loss was not uncommon for patients who had suffered a great and sudden trauma. It was the mind's way of protecting itself. There was the possibility that, in time, Merlin _might_ regain what he'd lost but there was no guarantee of it.

Listening to the old man's pitilessly frank litany of the injuries he'd inflicted on the man he loved had rendered Arthur unable to face Merlin again that day. He'd wandered the castle aimlessly for hours, finally making his way back to his own room and sinking down listlessly onto the bed.

However, being in his own room was worse than being back in the dungeon. Everywhere he'd looked he'd seen Merlin. There wasn't an item in the whole room he couldn't remember seeing those long-fingered hands on. Now it seemed he was alone in all those memories for Merlin had forgotten all. No, not all, just _him_. He supposed if there really was justice in the world, it was being served him now, in all it's pitiless cold fury.

* * *

It was several more weeks before Gaius declared Merlin fit to return to the Prince's service. There had been no further relapses and other than his amnesia, the young mage was almost back to normal. He still suffered from headaches and his shoulder wasn't fully mended and wouldn't be for months but as long as he wasn't doing any heavy lifting, the Physician allowed that he could go back to work.

Arthur had agreed to keep Merlin's workload light. There would be no mucking stables or hauling bathwater. It really wasn't an issue as there _were_ other servants to do those chores (and frankly always had been). Getting the Prince in and out of his chain-mail proved a strain but Merlin refused to be deprived of the duty.

The first few days after his return were the worst for Arthur. It was painful to be treated to Merlin's casually open friendliness. It was the way Merlin treated _everyone_ when he first met them and it hurt in it's off-handed brightness. He felt like a visitor in his own bedchamber.

The truly terrible thing was...it never got better. Merlin never relaxed into _any_ sort of friendship with Arthur, he just continued with an impersonal cheer that wasn't shadowed by even a hint of the snark and sarcasm that so marked their former relations. Months passed this way.

At first, it wore on Arthur's sense of guilt. Facing a blank, distant Merlin just reminded him that _he'd_ done this to the young man. As time continued to roll by and no sense of familiarity entered those deep blue eyes, Arthur began to despair. It seemed Merlin was lost to him forever. Weeks stretched into months and the Prince was able to observe how his servant interacted with everyone _but_ Arthur. He began to become suspicious. Was Merlin just acting? Was this whole "focused memory loss" just a way of punishing him for what he'd done? It seemed to Arthur that if Merlin had merely just forgotten him, then surely after all this time, he'd at least be getting to know him a _little_. Even if it was from a cold start, there should be something more there than there was.

It was the strangest thing, Arthur never could have imagined it. The boy remembered all sorts of little things like what he liked to eat for breakfast or which tunic was his favorite, he knew exactly how high to make the shine on Arthur's armour and that he liked his wine mulled before bed but never at supper. But when it came to his own person, it seemed as if every day, Merlin was meeting him for the first time in his life.

He'd asked Gaius about it but the old physician had just shrugged and replied that head wounds were unpredictable in their effect on the victim and that no two people ever responded or recovered in the same way.

So it was that frustration began to eat at the Prince's heart and mind. His native impatience began to emerge again and growl at his lack of progress with the object of his affections. Nothing he said or did seemed to make it _through_ to Merlin. He wasn't reaching him and it began to drive him a bit mad. Arthur became increasingly snappish and short with his servant and watched as his biting comments rolled off the young man's back without seeming to make any impression at all. _Other_ people made it through to Merlin, why couldn't he?

The thread of his control was drawing progressively tighter and thinner as his frustration mounted. The thread finally snapped one afternoon when Merlin handed him a carefully sealed letter and stated that Sir Bors had personally delivered it to the Prince's chamber whilst he was away at training. That the knight was well known to favor slim, pretty boys made Arthur instantly suspicious. That Bors also knew precisely where the Prince was when he made his delivery caused a red mist to rise before his eyes.

He tossed the vital missive aside and crowded Merlin close to the fireplace. When the boy brought his hands up in a warding gesture, Arthur grabbed him by both wrists and leaned in close.

"Did he touch you?"

"Wha...what?"

"Did the knave importune you?"

He gave Merlin a shake.

"Tell me!"

If he felt the narrow bones of the boy's wrists grind together he gave no sign and Merlin stared at him in silent incomprehension.

"Did Bors touch you or in any other way solicit your attention when he snuck in here like a fox to the hen house? Answer me, God dammit!"

"N-n-no! P-p-please, you're hurting me!"

Ignoring Merlin's feeble protest, he shook the man one more time.

"You're sure? You aren't covering for him, are you?"

"Why would I do that?"

Merlin looked genuinely confused and with that Arthur was at least satisfied of his servant's innocence, if not of Sir Bors.

"Why won't you remember me?"

The words slipped past Arthur's lips and surprised him as much as they seemed to confuse Merlin.

"I...I don't know? I remember _some_ things...just not...most of you."

"Please, Merlin. I need you to remember me!"

"I can't!"

In desperation, Arthur leaned forward and pressed his lips to the younger man's. When there was no response, he pressed harder and pried the full lips apart, forcing his way into Merlin's mouth, as if by doing so he could force his way back into his mind. His fingers tightened convulsively around the wrists they still clung to and he tried to drag Merlin up against his own body but the slender boy was arching _away_ from him instead. Arthur withdrew his mouth and pressed his forehead to Merlin's.

"Remember me!" The demand was low and harsh, uttered in a voice hoarse with frustrated longing. "Merlin, remember me, remember us!"

He released the boy's wrists only to wrap them around his waist and drag him closer, pressing the full aching length of his body against Merlin's long lean figure. His kiss was bruising, hard and angry, containing all his frustrated yearning. Ruthlessly plundering the sweet, hot cavern of Merlin's mouth he groaned at the taste of him, spiced honey, just like he remembered.

It took several minutes for Merlin's distressed keening to penetrate the single-minded fog of bliss obscuring Arthur's thoughts. When it finally did, he also registered the long-fingered hands pushing against his chest, struggling to push him _away_. Gasping for some control, he loosened his hold on his servant and watched in horror as Merlin burst into tears and _fled_ from him.

  



End file.
